


Shadowlord and Pirate King Bonus Material

by Footloose



Series: Shadowlord and Pirate King [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bonus Material, Fluff, M/M, Military Violence, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Footloose/pseuds/Footloose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonus material for Shadowlord and Pirate King.  Includes an Extra set in this AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The bonus materials for Shadowlord and Pirate King include a Prologue Timeline (Chapter One), a full Cast of Characters (Chapter Two), a Glossary (Chapter Three), an Extra set in this AU (Chapter Four), and the Worldbuilding behind Shadowlord and Pirate King (Chapter Five).
> 
> Be sure to check out Mushroomtale's [Fanmix](http://mushroomtale.livejournal.com/72179.html) and her post on the creation of the cover for Shadowlord and Pirate King.
> 
> * * *

 

  


 

 

 

  


 

  * The Empire falls. The ruling line of the House of Dragons and their personal advisors and guards from the House of Shadows are killed in a spacecraft explosion.
  * Newly bonded to the young Emperor, Master Kilgharrah of the House of Shadows flees with Uther and takes him to safety in uncontrolled space.
  * After exploiting an ancient and little-known law, the Conglomerate of Corporations takes over the rule of the Empire over the protests made by the Royal Houses. The Houses of Shadows and all its members are made complicit in the murder of the Emperor and exiled. The White Legion is formed.
  * The Conglomerate of Corporation imposes martial rule throughout the Empire.
  * The House of Shadows are hunted by Conglomerate assassins and vanish. Master Kilgharrah finds them and those who remain of the House rebuild what they can. Master Kilgharrah becomes the mentor to the orphaned infant son of the last Shadowlord, who was killed in the explosion that took the lives of the Emperor and his family.
  * Alone, without his Shadowlord at his side, Uther makes a name for himself among the Pirates and establishes Clan Pendragon. He marries Ygraine of Clan Dubois and shortly afterward, she gives birth to a son. Ygraine dies in childbirth.
  * Merlin, the heir of the House of Shadows, becomes Emrys, an assassin. He gains such a reputation that there is a high price posted on his head. This bounty increases every time that he kills another member of the White Legion in revenge for their betrayal of the House of Shadows.
  * Uther Pendragon is voted in as the new Pirate King and has one of the longest peacetime reigns. Arthur Pendragon becomes the youngest head of a Pirate Clan and the Captain of the renowned ship, Excalibur.
  * The Conglomerate of Corporations discover that the Royal line of the House of Dragons has survived and engineers an assassination attempt on Uther Pendragon. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), the attempt fails.
  * The Pirate King's health begins to fail. Attempts are made to investigate the cause and to restore his health. There is no diagnosis, and therefore no known cure.
  * Across the Empire, gifted Healers and Physicians begin to disappear. Most are rumoured to have been imprisoned by the Conglomerate or killed.
  * Merlin receives a detailed assignment to assassinate a specific target. Arthur enters Empire space to illegally assist in the extradition of a Healer whom he hopes might know how to save his father.



 

And the rest follows in **_Shadowlord and Pirate King_**.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

  


 

  


 

Although not everyone makes an appearance, this is a compilation of the characters from _Merlin_ their affiliation, with a bonus list of ships.

 

  


 

**The Pirate Horde**

**Head of all the Clans**  
Uther Pendragon, Pirate King, Clan Pendragon

 

**Seers**  
Morgana LeFay, Seer. Associated with Clan Pendragon  
Vivienne Gorlois, Seer. Associated with Clan Gorlois

 

**Clan Arroy**  
Bohrs, Clanhead. Captain of the _Dorocha_

 

**Clan Bralant**  
Pellinor, Clanhead. Captain of the _Hornet_

 

**Clan Caerleon**  
Annis, Clanhead

 

**Clan Cameliard**  
Perceval, crewman on _Excalibur  
_

**Clan Cantia**  
Cedric, crewman on _Excalibur  
_

**Clan Corbenic**  
Galahad, crewman on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Corneus**  
Lucan, crewman on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Devon**  
Geraint, crewman on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Dolmaon**  
William, crewman on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Dubois**  
Agravaine, Captain of the _Dauntless_  
Tristan, Clanhead. Captain of the _Tempest_  
Ygraine, wife to Uther Pendragon, mother of Arthur

 

**Clan Eira**  
Gwaine, crewman on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Essetir**  
Cenred, Clanhead. Captain of _Howling Knave_

 

**Clan Estrangor**  
Aredian, Clanhead. Captain of _Witchfinder_

 

**Clan Fisher**  
Edward, Clanhead. Captain of _Trident  
_

**Clan Gawant**  
Elena, heir. Captain of the _Pixie Bright_  
Godwyn, Clanhead  
Grunhilda, servant

 

**Clan Gorlois**  
Morgause, Clanhead. Captain of _Retaliate_

 

**Clan Leodegrace**  
Elyan, crewman on _Excalibur_  
Guinevere, Clanhead. Captain of _The Forge_  
Lancelot, crewman on _Excalibur_ , husband to Guinevere

 

**Clan Listinoise**  
Alined, Clanhead. Captain of _Trickler_

 

**Clan Llannin**

 

**Clan Mercia**  
Bayard, Clanhead. Captain of _Poison Curse  
_

**Clan Monmouth**  
Geoffrey, Clanhead

 

**Clan Mora**  
Helen, Clanhead. Captain of _Siren's Song  
_

**Clan Moreif**  
George, King's servant

 

**Clan Nemeth**  
Mithian, Clanhead, Captain of _Artemis  
_ Rodor, Captain of _Demeter_

 

**Clan Nogales**  
Paulus, crewman on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Northumberland**

 

**Clan Pendragon**  
Arthur Pendragon, Clanhead. Captain of _Excalibur_  
Bran, crewman on _Excalibur  
_ Connal, crewman on _Excalibur_  
Ewan, Kingsguard  
Leon, First Mate on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Selice**  
Joon, crewman on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Sommerlund**  
Olaf, Clanhead. _  
_Vivian, heir. Captain of _Viking's Hammer_

 

**Clan Sorelais**  
Owain, crewman on _Excalibur_

 

**Clan Whenham**  
Odin, Clanhead. Captain of the _Reach Deep_

 

  


 

**The Imperial Royal Court**  
 **House of Dragons**  
Antonia, Empress, wife to Emperor Constantin, mother to Uther Pendragon  
Constantin, Emperor, father to Uther Pendragon

 

**House of Shadows** (House in exile)  
Balinor, Shadowlord, bonded to Emperor Constantin  
Edwin Muirden, Acolyte  
Gilli, Acolyte  
Hunith, wife of Balinor  
Kilgharrah, Shadowlord, bonded to Uther Pendragon  
Merlin, Shadowlord, bonded to Arthur Pendragon  
Taliesin, Master  
Will

 

**House of the Golden Flame**  
Anhora, Master

 

**House of Twilight**

 

**House of the Grail**

 

**House of Basilisk**

 

**Royal Guard**  
Kay, Lieutenant-Commander

 

**Physicians/Healers**  
Alice  
Gaius Wiltshire

 

**Imperial Navy**  
Aglain, General  
Iseldir, General  
Lochru, General

 

  


 

**Imperial Conglomerate of Corporations**  
 **Members of the Regent Council**  
Aulfric, Councillor  
Catrina, Councillor  
Cornelius Sigan, Councillor  
Julius Borden, Councillor  
Nimueh, Chairwoman  
Sophia, Councillor

 

**White Legion**  
Aithusa  
Helios, soldier  
Mordred, Elite  
Myror, soldier  
Osgar, soldier  
Sefa, soldier  
Tauren, soldier

 

**Conglomerate Fleet  
** Ruadan, General

 

  


 

**Unaffiliated**

Alator, Black Market broke. Usually operates only on the Net  
Chiku Shan, Black Market broker. Operates out of the Volante System  
Copperfin, Assassin. Operates out of the Hadrian Wall System  
Emrys, Assassin. Merlin's alias  
Freya, Madam. Runs a courtesan house, but also has a side job as an assassin  
Isolde, Smuggler. Operates out of the Valle Reaches with Tristan  
Jakkob van der Hoesen, false ID. Used by Gaius Wiltshire  
Kitty Five-Kills, Assassin. Freya's alias  
N. Baird, false ID. Used by Gaius Wiltshire  
Niall ap Torron, false ID. Used by Merlin  
Tristan, Smuggler. Operates out of the Valle Reaches with Isolde

 

  


 

**Civilian Luxury Ships**  
 _Lady Hiamela_

**Imperial Navy**  
E.D.S. 75750-42, Imperial Battleship, commanded by General Aglain

**Conglomerate Fleet**  
E.D.S. 301459-01E, Conglomerate Cruiser, formerly an Imperial Cruiser  
IF304-2, Conglomerate Dreadnought, commanded by General Ruadan

**Pirate Ships**  
 _Anvil_ , Clan Leodegrace _  
_ _Artemis_ , Clan Nemeth. Captained by Mithian  
 _Banshee_ , Clan Dolmaon  
 _Carmathen_ , Clan Pendragon  
 _Excalibur_ , Clan Pendragon. Captained by Arthur Pendragon  
 _Dainty Strumpet_ , Clan Sommerlund  
 _Dauntless_ , Clan Dubois. Captained by Agravaine  
 _Demeter_ , Clan Nemeth, Captained by Rodor _  
_ _Dorocha_ , Clan Arroy _._ Captained by Bohrs  
 _Hengröen_ , Clan Pendragon  
 _Hermes' Flight_ , Clan Nemeth  
 _Hornet_ , Clan Bralant. Captained by Pellinor  
 _Howling Knave_ , Clan Essetir. Captained by Cenred  
 _Hydra_ , Clan Northumberland  
 _Pixie Bright_ , Clan Gawant. Captained by Elena  
 _Poison Curse_ , Clan Mercia. Captained by Bayard  
 _Reach Deep_ , Clan Whenham. Captained by Odin  
 _Retaliate_ , Clan Gorlois. Captained by Morgause  
 _Siren's Song_ , Clan Mora. Captained by Helen _  
_ _Tempest_ , Clan Dubois. Captained by Tristan  
 _The Forge_ , Clan Leodegrace. Captained by Guinevere  
 _Trickler_ , Clan Listinoise. Captained by Alined  
 _Trident_ , Clan Fisher. Captained by Edward  
 _Venture_ , Clan Monmouth  
 _Viking's Hammer_ , Clan Sommerlund. Captained by Vivian

**Unknown Designations**  
 _Unpleasant Surprise_ , a slipstream Captained by Will

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

  


 

The Glossary encompasses multiple details: definitions, slang, and place settings. While it is hoped that the descriptions and build-up will suffice to give an understanding of the concept, sometimes it's nice to have a cheat sheet. Here's mine. The terminology in **_Shadowlord and Pirate King_** originates from many different uses, including military-Navy, military-Air Force, historical slang, nautical terms, and from the worldbuilding itself.

 

 

 **1MC** : Short for 1 Main Circuit, the 1MC refers to a public address system on board any ship. While some ships will call it the PA for the sake of the public (I.e., transport ships, cruise liners), most military ships call it for what it is -- the main circuit that reaches all sections of a ship. It is used for general announcements and emergencies.

 **Aft** : A ship direction. Toward the rear of a ship.

 **AI** : Artificial Intelligence. Although technology has improved to a level where artificial intelligence is commonplace, artificial intelligence is restricted to a few non-critical systems on board ships and space stations for safety purposes. These artificial intelligences are more likely to be present planetside.

 **Airlock** : A seal, however constructed designed to withstand the pressure differential between a life-sustaining atmosphere and the lack of atmosphere in space. Many ships, particularly those of large configurations (i.e., dreadnoughts, warships, freighters, frigates) have multiple airlocks, not only to allow access to outside the ship, but to protect the ship in case of hull breaches.

 **Albion** : The Capital planet of the Empire, Albion is the fourth planet from a yellow star, following an elliptical orbit. It has two moons, one larger than the other, that are positioned at such a distance from the planet that they cancel out each other's large tidal variances. Albion is a high-percentage EGi-class water planet, with a single broad continent along the equator. Its' official designation in the star charts is _Neo Britannia_.

 **Antigravity platform** : Similar to an elevator, without physical mechanisms to raise or lower a weight. Usually present in spaceports for the unloading of cargo because they are too unstable to be operated without supervision, or in regulated lift zones for the horizontal transportation of a passenger across the large expanse of a space station. They generally aren't trusted for vertical transportation, and it's commonly accepted that a vertical transport is very much _at one's own risk_.

 **Armada** : A full fleet of spaceships, made up of smaller flotilla units.

 **Aurora 8** : A disreputable vacation planet catering to all and every kinks and tastes. It's renowned for its exotic, interspecies sex orgies.

 **Ballast** : Ballast, when used on board a naval ship, is an object or structure providing counterweight and stability. On board a space ship or space station, ballast refers to an object, engine, or pressurized source that balances or moves an inert object. This can be anything from a thruster motor, an air jet or cannon, or a pressurized airlock corridor. The term, _blowing ballast_ refers to activating the thruster motors, air jets or cannons, or opening airlocks for the violent venting of air that will allow unusual and drastic movement.

 **Bank** : When used in reference to piloting a ship, a _bank_ is a ship's banking maneuver where the ship changes directional position by twisting along the axial.

 **Barrel roll** : An aerial or spacial acrobatic maneuver where the ship rolls to a complete 180° of its original position.

 **Black Box** : A colloquial term referring to a cloaking device on board a ship. Given that Pirates are the only space-faring civilization who have achieved true cloak rather than shielding tactics to diffract radioactive sensors or stealth-skin to blend a ship with its background, the term is unique to Pirates.

 **Blues** : Derogatory slang for the Imperial Conglomerate of Corporations Police (or Imperial Corporation of Corporations Army -- the term is interchangeable). In the early days, because of the rapid recruitment and rise of the Conglomerate of Corporations Army, their troops were equipped with cheap uniforms made out of a garish blue fabric. Nowadays, the uniform is more of a steel grey, but new recruits are hazed to wear these scratchy, ugly uniforms as a matter of principle.

 **Boarding bridge** : Ships and spaceports, regardless of designation, use a metallic, rigid boarding bridge for the boarding and disembarkment of crew and passengers. This is usually called a catwalk. _Boarding bridge_ , in Pirate parlance, refers to the plank they use to cross between ships in the process of being pillaged. It's something of a daring technological marvel -- a plastic, extendable tube that latches onto any ship's surface and quickly pressurizes with a breathing atmosphere. Crossing a boarding bridge is called _walking the plan_ ".

 **Book of Blood** : There is a great deal of mysticism surrounding the Book of Blood. Publicly, it is known as a sacred physical text detailing the origins of the Houses, beginning from the original pilgrimage from Old Earth and continuing on into the present. Each House has a chapter, and each chapter is of varying degrees of completion, including many, many chapters that are considered to belong to Lost Houses. The spottiest, least-well recorded history remains the history of the House of Shadows, but even that entry is reduced to only speculation, particularly since being stricken from the Book after the unfounded accusation of treason against the House of Dragons and the Empire. Less well known is how the Book of Blood is a veritable marvel that transcends the current level of technology. It is able to self-record history in the making and can chronicle the genealogical tree of any member of any House. It is protected by Guardians who dedicate their lives to the Book of Blood, and it is rumoured that these very same Guardians have made the Book of Blood into some sort of religion that only they follow, up to and including glimpses into an unwritten future in the blank pages of the Book.

 **Brig** : A jail cell on board a ship. On civilian luxury liners, a brig might be nothing more than a small storage room with a strong lock. Imperial military ships can have an entire level as a brig, though it is largely used to transport prisoners and is rarely used for their own personnel. Pirates, on the other hand, have a tendency to cross the line one too many times, and a Pirate ship's brig gets fairly regular use.

 **Bunyip VI** : A planetary system on the outskirts of uncharted/uncontrolled space. It is a typical _rendezvous_ point for mercenaries offloading cargo before entering Imperial space -- a precaution so that they aren't arrested bringing illegal goods into the Empire. On the flipside, it is also a location where the Imperium merchants -- part of the Conglomerate of Corporations -- pick up their goods, usually for a hideously discounted fee masked behind threats of sending the Imperial Conglomerate in to arrest or confiscate everything. This loss is usually recouped by passing it on to the mercenaries, who pay large docking and storage charges, but it's a win-win situation all around given that the mercenaries overcharge for their goods.

 **Caltrops** : A caltrop is an antipersonnel weapon, usually made up of two to several sharp points. At its simplest, it is a twisted gnarl of barbed wire or sharp titanium nails. At its most complicated, a caltrop is a twisted heap of sharp metal, typically made out of unbreakable alloys and either hooked or barbed, usually magnetized, and meant to be scattered out in space to thwart pursuing ships -- at which point they are no longer anti _personnel_ weapons, but anti _craft_ weapons.

 **Camelot** : Camelot is the name of the sprawling castle that is the Imperial palace on the capital planet of Albion.

 **Camlann** : Camlann is a region of space on the outer fringe of a collapsed star cluster deep within a spiral-shaped galaxy just outside of known Imperial space. Within this star cluster is a powerful black hole that had been a dwarf star over a million years ago; it has since swallowed other nearby, neighbouring stars, and with every feeding, grows in size. It is a dangerous region of space, with turbulent cosmic winds and gravitational eddies, with two dense asteroid belts converging on either side. It is the site of the decisive last battle between the Conglomerate and the Empire. It has been estimated that wreckage and debris from the Battle of Camlann will free-float for nearly a thousand years before they come close enough to the event horizon of the black hole, where they will disappear entirely. Beacons have been scattered by the Empire to warn travellers of the dangerous passage ahead, which was made all the more dangerous by the use of illegal armaments by the Conglomerate.

 **Castellan** : Although the title has long been out of usage in most areas of the galaxy, phased out by the Imperial Conglomerate, the title is still in effect on Albion and refers to the governor of a castle or palace. Once charged with the military defence of the grounds, the position has evolved for the governing of the court, particularly in Albion, and the Castellan is charged with ensuring that the Lord or Lady of the House is kept informed of all going-ons, and corrected on matters of law and protocol.

 **Cast your coin** : Pirate terminology based on tradition. To take from Arthur's description of the tradition: " _We Pirates are gambling men. We truly are, and when we set our bets, we keep to them, riding our own folly to the end. When a Pirate casts his coin, he's throwing his fate and his future along with it. It's a honour when another Pirate casts his coin with yours._ "

 **Catha spaceport** : A large space station in uncontrolled space with a high alien-to-human ratio and a healthy black market. Nearly anything can be found and purchased in Catha. Alator, a booking agent for assassins who normally operates uniquely online, has a personal suite on Catha, where he sometimes -- but rarely -- does business face-to-face.

 **Central Core** : The region of space associated with the Empire's core worlds, including the Imperial capital of Albion. This area of space does not include Old Earth, which is lost in history and space.

 **Chaff** : Used in battle, chaff is a type of countermeasure meant to scatter radio waves and mimic the turbulence of a ship's passage to confuse sensors and on-board targeting systems on torpedoes and missiles.

 **Chicken flight** : The act of two ships approaching each other head-on at high speed. Whichever ship blinks first -- or alters course to avoid collision -- is said to be the chicken.

 **Clan** : A Clan is a blanket phrase relating to an entire faction or family of Pirates, anyone falling under their blanket of protection, or anyone who implicitly claims allegiance to the Clan. It is not unusual for a Clan member to swear allegiance to a different Clan for a predetermined period of time for purposes of training, experience, or instruction; it is considered to be similar to a _fostering_ (for young boys) or an apprenticeship (for older boys). Men who remain sworn to another Clan become full-fledged members. It is also not unheard of for a Clan member to leave their Clan for another on a permanent basis, but any individual who does so may be viewed as untrustworthy, depending on the circumstances of their original departure.

 **Clan crests** : Similar to a House sigil, the Pirate crests are representative of the principal bloodline of a Clan. They are typically seen in the middle brow of a Jolly Rogers skull and crossbones, which are often painted on the hull of their ships.

 **Clanheads** : An individual responsible for representing a Pirate family and every member of the Clan. This individual is also a member of the Pirate council.

 **Clanless** : The sorry state possessed by an individual who has been disavowed by his own Clan and who cannot join another Clan until he has redeemed himself. Redemption is rare; the Clanless Pirates often end up in Imperial Prisons or members of the Mercenary Guild.

 **Clan Pendragon** : Clan Pendragon may not be the youngest Clan anymore -- that title goes to Clan Bralant, who are making a name of themselves by advancing the cloaking technologies -- but they are, by far, one of the strongest and richest Clans. Established by Uther, who arrived in Pirate space in his twenties and first apprenticed himself with Clan Mercia to learn the trade, Clan Pendragon became renowned for its cunning in both battle and in council. When Uther won the right to found his own Clan after earning the minimum required Sterling through raiding runs that he personally led, many of his associates flocked to this Clan. The men and women of Clan Pendragon are known for being among the most disciplined and the best trained for battle and for intromptu pillaging.

 **Clanships** : In common parlance, a Clanship is the flagship of a Clan. Although it is usually the largest or fastest ship used for pillage or attack missions, this isn't necessarily always true -- it can be the smallest, most luxurious ship, or the largest, clunkiest frigate. It is typically declared the _clanship_ whenever the Clanhead is aboard. The Clanship may occasionally refer to the Clan mothership, which is used for transporting large segments of a Clan to a new homeworld, but which, as the Pirates have settled in their territory, now serves as a staging ship for Clan-related missions or assignments.

 **Clanworld** : The birth-planet or planet of residence of an individual claiming ties or alliance with a particular Clan. See also, Homeworld.

 **Code** : The Code is unique to Pirate culture, encompassing the laws, the traditions, the behavioural guidelines, and the unspoken footnotes of the culture. It is, in places, a convoluted mash-up of tangled rules, confusing protocols, elaborate forms of address, and laws written in such excruciating detail that one can forget what the law was supposed to be about in the first place. The most hilarious interpretation of one particular law involved a tumble-footed square dance and a rendition of _The Three Loves of Alistair Bane_ before a non-Clanhead could address the council. This law is still in place and is a surprisingly good deterrent against interruptions.

 **Combat spread** : A military flight maneuver in space combat tactics. Two or more fighter planes flying in wing-to-wing formation with a precise distance between their ships. Typically, this maneuver allows two fighter planes to visually confirm that there isn't an enemy weapon or an enemy ship directly behind them under a cloak that renders them invisible to radar, but can equally serve as an oncoming barricade to force the enemy to break their attack.

 **Comms** : Person-to-person or person-to-ship communications.

 **Comm-code** : Used largely only by Pirates, a comm-code is similar to an unique transponder code on a ship. It is part of the communication signal that precedes a transmission handshake between ships, both confirming the Pirate ship's identity and making the transmission difficult to hack. It is used when direct communications to a ship is required.

 **Conglomerate** : Short-form in reference to the Imperial Conglomerate of Corporations. 

**Consort** : Generally, a Consort is a non-ruling spouse of a ruling monarch, but may have some powers of the state granted upon them by the monarch in question. Under Imperial law, for example, a Consort may rule as Regent if there is an underage and the monarch is predeceased, but must immediately abdicate their position when the heir comes of age.

 **Consoles black** : Military jargon. Consoles black is the command issued when a ship is attempting to operate for maximum stealth, requiring low electrical power, no light sources, and a minimum of power emission sources.

 **Corporation Coin** : Credits issued by the Imperial Conglomerate to its military members. This dominion is only recognized within Imperial space and is worthless anywhere else.

 **CorpsCops** : Colloquial for the lowest (or most common) echelon of the Imperial Corporation army. While they are technically enlisted men and women in the _army_ , the majority are member of a police division that is spread throughout the Empire. Previously known as Peacekeepers while operating under the Imperial army before the Conglomerate took over rule of the Empire, the police corps are the second-largest division in the Corporate army. The term _Peacekeepers_ is in disfavour, and hasn't been in common use since before the death of Emperor Constantin. The CorpsCops are also called Blues (because of their once-garish uniforms), and it is considered to be a derogatory term.

 **Course IV** : Space station in Imperial space operating primarily as a way-station for intergalactic luxury cruises and merchant ships. A significant population of worker live on the lower levels, and some sections of the station have become their own mini-cities.

 **Coyotes** : Also known as _Snakeheads_. Coyotes are part of an underground organization specializing in smuggling people across the Imperial border. Until the death of Emperor Constantin, all smuggling was performed in one direction -- _to_ the Empire, where all citizens, regardless of their status, were granted employment and health care. Since the Imperial Conglomerate came to power, the smuggling has been done in the _other_ direction -- away from the Empire. _Coyote_ is taken from human smugglers on Old Earth (North America) who filled much the same function, but across country lines.

 **Crêche** : Artificial wombs for the nurturing and birth of children. The technology is strictly regulated in Imperial space to afford conception for couples who cannot conceive naturally, for same-sex couples, or for inter-species couples. The practice involves the blending of genetics from both parties and implantation in a "blank" ovum. There is a black market for the use of crêches for the creation of genetically perfect babies or for scientific experiments. The Conglomerate has illegally used crêches to create genetically superior soldiers for the White Legion.

 **Cred-cards:** The primary source of monetary exchange in the Empire. Considered to be the equivalent of traceable notes and can come in any dominion.

 **Cruisers** : Mid-size ship configuration ranging anywhere from a complement of several dozen to one hundred and fifty crew. Cruisers are also capable of carrying up to twenty fighter ships, depending on the cruiser's model.

 **Davy Jones' locker** : Originating from Old Earth, this idiom refers to the bottom of the ocean. It has been hijacked for use by Pirates in space, at which point Davy Jones' locker refers to the figurative bottom of space.

 **Dead in the water** : Adrift, with no sail nor engines for any deliberate forward motion.

 **Deck** : A ship level or floor.

 **DEFCON ONE** : Highest danger alert rating on board a military ship or planet.

 **Diamondstone** : A type of marble with a high composition of crystalline carbon. It is very difficult to mine, even more so to carve and form, but it is prized across galaxies everywhere and much sought after as building material, as it is considered to be almost impregnable. 

**Docking ring** : Not quite the docking port of a space station, which is a giant hangar, but the docking ring, where incoming and outgoing ships can temporarily dock by way of airlock instead of coming through an atmospheric force field barrier to enter the space station proper.

 **Dog's watch** : Considered to be the mid-watch in a ship's usual watch circle, it is a shorter watch allowing every sailor to cycle through a watch period and having some downtime in the process. In most military settings, the Dog's watch is set from 1600 to 1800 and again from 1800 to 2000, and is strictly adhered to. On a Pirate ship, which is less disciplined and has fewer crewmen, the Dog's watch is whenever there is no direct threat or looming danger to the crew, and is set in such a way that at least half the crew is on every station, while the other half catches up on their rest.

 **Dolphins** : Pirate slang referring to the energy trails of a passing ship in space. Any kind of seafaring animal is used in this manner, but a _dolphin_ implies a smaller craft or shuttles.

 **Dragonlord** : The ruling heir of the House of Dragons. An ancient term that is not in common usage.

 **Dry dock** : A section of space, a docking station, a designated zone in a naval yard intended for the building or repair of a ship. Usually a location flooded by low gravity to keep the ship floating (rather than listing) freely with minimum support.

 **EG** : Planetary classification, short form. _Earth Gaia_ , long form. It is the global classification applied to mature planets that fit within the specifications capable of supporting a fully developed geological, hydrological and biological system. There are many sub-categories used to define the planetary type in more detail, including EGi, which refers to a high-silicate planet with a Pangaea continent (or one continent and multiple islands along tectonic rifts or convergent zones along the equator), a high water-to-terrestrial ratio and a temperate climate, such as Albion.

 **Elsinor** : A rocky planet located on the fringes of Pirate territory, Clan-neutral. All Pirate ships have equal rights to land on this planet and resupply providing that they re-equip what they take at a later date. Although it is not on the main trade routes to the Pirate homeworlds, it is an important strategic outpost..

 **Emperor** : The absolute ruler of the Empire (also known as the United Pantheon of System Galaxies prior to its takeover by the Conglomerate of Corporations). The title and position is hereditary within the House of Dragons and is passed from parent to child regardless of sex and of the order of birth of the child. The last Emperor, Emperor Constantin, and his family were assassinated in a secret plot by a group (later called the Conglomerate) of merchants, and the deaths were blamed on the House of Shadows, who have historically always been charged with the protection of the Emperor's family.

 **ETA** : Estimated Time of Arrival.

 **First Rule of Smuggling** : If there was a rule book for mercenaries and smugglers, it would include one particular rule: _When in doubt, cause an integalactic incident_. It is well-documented that even the most ardent CorpsCop will give up the chase if there is a risk of conflict with allied alien species or even the Pirates.

 **Fly-by** : A ship changing course to obtain visual confirmation (rather than relying on a sensor sweep) of something outside vid range. Not to be confused with a _buzz-by_ , which involves a pilot flying close enough to the control tower on a space station to make the Comptroller shite their pants.

 **Foldspace** : There are multiple ways to reach faster than light speeds for space travel, and _foldspace_ is one of them. Assuming that space is flat, like a sheet of paper, _foldspace_ implies the ability of a ship to literally take space and fold it, as one would a piece of paper, however many times it takes to shorten the point between A and B on the same "page". The ship travels through these folds to reach its destination. This particular technique is one favoured by the Pirates.

 **Fore-bottom** : A ship direction relating to the front of a ship, and the very lowest accessible deck.

 **FTL** : Faster Than Light. Refers to the speed of space travel. It is the most commonly used unit of speed. For example thruster speed could be described as quarter FTL speed. There are multiple types of FTL, of which _foldspace_ is one.

 **Full forward** : Full speed ahead. Usually preceded by the grade of speed (i.e., docking speed, thruster speed.)

 **Full light** : Full light is _full light speed_ , or as near as a ship's regular engines can achieve without triggering FTL. 

**Galayan rum** : A particularly exquisite, cold-distilled rum that goes down smooth as silk and leaves behind a subtle aftertaste of the drinker's favourite flavours, depending on their mood. It's rare, difficult to obtain, and costs a pretty Sterling coin (at least) when a barrel finally comes available from the alien source that makes it.

 **Gangplank** : Unlike a passageway on a deck, a gangplank is just that: a plank that connects two sections of a ship over a gaping chasm. A gangplank is usually present on ships that can detach from the engine room in case of an emergency -- such as massive, catastrophic engine failures -- and eject completely.

 **Ghosts** : A term used to describe a cloaked ship. Typically used by the Pirates.

 **Greek Fire** : Taking its name from the ancient stories from Old Earth, Greek Fire is a chemical mess that will burn extremely hot -- often hot enough to burn through several layers of shielding. There is no specific recipe for the preparation of Greek Fire; its chemical fingerprint is as unique as the individual that makes it. Although it is a deadly weapon, it hasn't been outlawed across the civilized galaxies because few, if anyone, would willingly carry this very unstable substance on board their ships. A particular brand of Greek Fire, originating from the Pirates, seems to defy the convention of instability, because they are not only able to prepare the substance in large quantities, but to pack it in a device that assures some degree of stability. This type of Greek Fire is known to burn with a white phosphorescence that can continue to burn even in the near-complete zero degrees of space, and that is is blinding to sensors.

 **Green** : Ship operation slang. Indicates that everything is functioning within prescribed parameters.

 **Hadrian Wall** : A cluster of asteroids orbiting a red star. Different mercenary organizations inhabit this broad swath of asteroids that remains in static orbit. It is believed to be a favourite hiding spot for criminals on the run, owing to the difficulty in tracking and navigating the asteroid field.

 **Half-barrel roll** : An aerial or spacial acrobatic maneuver where the ship rolls to 90° of its original position.

 **Hand of the _Glóm_** : A special title given to select members of the House of Shadows, particularly among the ruling line. It is currently held by Merlin. Its' use and meaning is a closely guarded secret within the House. It refers to a cultural aspect of a now-extinct alien race with which the House bloodline intermingled and is part of the edict and beliefs of the House. The full text reads:

>   
> _There is nothing between the light and the darkness. There is no path to walk between the right and the wrong. There is no balance but the balance set by the Hand of the_ Glóm _. It is in faith that the Hand will mark the line no man shall ever cross, for he shall draw it upon the ground and he shall walk it, and he alone shall guard the shade and take the shadow's strength to temper the brightness of the light and to keep the darkness at bay._  
> 

**Happy sailings** : A final farewell given by Pirates to their fallen comrades. It is a well-wish for calm seas and clear skies, with the perfect wind to tack into the sunset.

 **Haulers** : Also called freighters. A type of heavy merchant ship designed for the transport of cargo. While haulers don't typically have weapon systems, they are thick-hulled and nearly impenetrable. They are also very, very slow -- barely capable of attaining FTL speeds. For this reason, most haulers are unmanned, are programmed to follow a specific route guarded by regular patrols, and tend to carry unrefined material that would be of no worth to anyone but to the receiver.

 **Healer** : A person gifted with a magical healing ability who is also trained as a physician. One can be a Healer but not be trained as a physician. An untrained Healer is usually cheaper for a citizen to visit than a full-fledged Healing Physician, but there is always a slim chance that the ailment would be poorly understood by the untrained Healer and, as a result, the Healing itself would be ineffective.

 **Helemere I:** A holiday destination in the Empire, known for its tropical weather, calm seas, and beautiful people. Located in the Arcos 001024 Blue Star galaxy.

 **Helm** : The steering controls of a ship. Most ships have split controls designed for ease of transfer between two pilots, but, in general, a helm combines both a pilot and a navigator.

 **Hollows** : The name of a popular CorpsCops bar on the Lost Star space port operating on the fringes of Imperial and uncharted space.

 **Holo** : Also called _three-dee_ (archaic use). Refers to a holographic recording, display, or projection. 

**Homeworld** : The birth-planet of an individual. In the Empire, the birth-planet or homeworld is representative of the person's citizenship. Among the Pirates, this word is interchangeable with Clanworld.

 **House** : In both the former and current Empire, the Houses are considered to be the noble lines originally descended from several original colonies who emigrated from Old Earth and spread out to the stars. These Houses make up the members of the Royal court. Although never proven, many of these bloodlines are believed to have mingled with alien species encountered throughout the centuries of travel that it took to reach the part of the universe where they finally settled, resulting in the spontaneous development unusual abilities. While these talents appear to manifest to different degrees within a House and have been diluted by time, these unusual talents are persistent in two particular Houses: House of Dragons (high charisma and strength of character) and House of Shadows (manipulation of shadows). The ruling head of the House (called a gender-neutral Master, but sometimes also _Lady_ or _Lord_ ) is a member of the Imperial Court and an advisor to the Emperor; their role was considered to be of great importance in maintaining the stability of the Empire. With the Conglomerate in charge, their role has been reduced to little more than a token voice of protest (if that).

 **House of Dragons** : Never a very prolific lineage, the House of Dragons was thought completely eradicated in an assassination attempt believed to have killed Emperor Constantin, his wife, the Empress Antonia, and the young Prince Uther. They have been the ruling line of the Empire since time immemorial, rarely, if ever challenged for their position, and well-loved by their citizens. It is said that all members of the line of the House of Dragons are capable of irresistible charisma, are known for their noble sense of right, and have a demonstrated blood-deep instinct to protect and preserve that which they consider "theirs". The House sigil is an elaborate, stylized Dragon, and the House colours are a deep red and vibrant gold.

 **House Sigils** : A crest representing the bloodline of each House in the Empire. Elements of the crest are rumoured to be representative of the alien species with which the House is rumoured to have intermingled with at the beginning of the colonization pilgrimage from Old Earth.

 **House of Shadows** : Although there are many Shadows -- initiates and acolytes, journeymen and young masters -- there are few, if any, who are able to claim the title of Shadowlord. Shadowlords are always of the ruling line, with the true blood of the ancients coursing through their veins, and they have a capacity for not only the manipulation of shadows, but the ability to become _one_ with those shadows. Because their powers have long been feared by the other Houses, the House of Shadows has long since pledged to protect the House of Dragons -- the one House with members whose will can calm an enraged Shadowlord. There is much, much mysticism surrounding the House of Shadows, and much that they keep secret, including the specifics of their bonding to the House of Dragons, their belief in the Litany, and the knowledge of the shadows. Shortly after the assassination of Emperor Constantin and his family, the House of Shadows were framed as the guilty parties by members of their own House (who formed the White Legion under the Conglomerate) and cast into exile. The House sigil is a bas-relief of a Dragon (the opposite of the House of Dragon sigil), and the House colours are black and a subdued lavender.

 **Imperial Conglomerate Army** : An army composed of several levels of troops, including CorpsCops, regular troops, conscripted former royal guards, and White Legion.

 **Imperial Conglomerate of Corporations** : The official name of the new ruling government of the Empire following the death of Emperor Constantin. Also called the Conglomerate or the Imperial Conglomerate.

 **Imperial Court** : The ensemble of every ruling member of the Houses acting as advisors to the Emperor. Since the Conglomerate took charge of the Empire, the Court has nearly completely disbanded. Also called the _royal court_.

 **Ivdran champagne** : A type of champagne, originating from Ivdra, an alien planet in uncontrolled space beyond Pirate territory. Very rare, with exotic hallucinogenic side effects in humans, and very much an acquired taste, if one can tolerate drinking a mixture of antifreeze and formaldehyde, despite there not being either of those chemicals in the champagne itself. Because these particular flavours are easy to imitate, Ivdran champagne is one of the most forged (and deadly) substance in the black market, to be purchased and drunk at one's peril.

 **Jolly Rogers** : The Pirate flag with the traditional skull and crossbones. The Pirate Clans use this symbol as part of their Clan crests, placing the actual crest in the centre of the skull's forehead. It is considered a personal affront if a non-Pirate uses the Jolly Rogers for any reason (even to cast blame or suspicion toward them), and the Pirates are known to hunt down and punish anyone who does. As far as the Pirate Clans are concerned, if they are going to be blamed for a crime, they will damn well be the ones responsible for them, and reap the profits.

 **Jump** : A _jump_ is the stage in which a ship is well and firmly in FTL. To be jarred out of a jump can cause serious damage to both ship and crew, and runs the risk of permanently trapping them in FTL.

 **Kamikaze** : Based in the historical, though the origins are long forgotten, _kamikaze_ refers to a daring act from which there is no hope of survival.

 **Keelhauled** : A form of Pirate punishment. An unfortunate individual would be placed in a space suit with restricted oxygen flow, tossed out the airlock, and dragged along for a while. Particularly cruel forms of this punishment involve braking suddenly, causing a bungee-jerk at the change of momentum, or flying through an asteroid belt where the risk of compromising the suit integrity (and dying) is high. This is the space-faring version of a similar punishment performed planet-side, where a prisoner is tied up and dragged behind a boat.

 **Lathan rum** : Considered to be the next best thing to Galayan rum, not to mention more affordable, Lathan rum has subtle flavours and a strong, satisfying burn. It is popular in the Empire, though shipments have been known to be hijacked before they even leave their port of call. It is one of the only other rums (the other being Galayan) that eschews the use of artificial flavours, colouring, and manufacturing processes.

 **Law of Provenance** : An old, infrequently invoked but still very valid Pirate law, primarily used to settle the matter of ownership of a precious object, particularly following a pillage where the object in question cannot be equally divided between the crew. The law reads simply that whoever brought the item on board, whether it is animate or inanimate (to wit: a person versus an object), legally owns or is responsible for that item. As the Pirates abhor slavery in all its forms, "ownership" of another person merely entails that the person is a part of the Pirate's Clan, and that the Pirate is responsible in providing for them and for their protection.

 **Lifepods** : Emergency escape modules on ships.

 **Lost Star:** A spaceport operating on the fringes of Imperial and uncontrolled space. It is a hotbed of merchant activity and appears to be a near-permanent posting for the Conglomerate fleet -- most likely over the objections of the port authority.

 **Make [your] way across** : Pirate slang for crossing over from one ship to another.

 **Manchester Seven** : A planet in Imperial space, known for its athletes. They have year-long multi-sport seasons, gigantic sport arenas, and are known for the occasional fan rampage when their teams lose.

 **Manifest** : A list related to a ship's content. Can include crew, passengers, and/or cargo.

 **Mercenary Guild** : While not technically an official guilt, the Mercenary Guild started off as a joke between two criminals almost two centuries prior and ballooned into a very real thing, with member fees, guaranteed docking ports, and agents who broker jobs for mercenaries with special skill sets. A card-carrying member of the Guild is afforded certain protections under the unspoken agreements between different ships and can enlist the Guild's assistance in settling disputes. Membership into the Guild is restricted, with every member thoroughly vetted in order to eliminate plants from the Conglomerate.

 **Mirrean wine** : A rich, flavourful dry red wine cultivated by a rare breed of grapes that grows only under specific conditions, and woe betide the state of affairs when the climate doesn't cooperate. It is a favourite among Pirates, and rarely (read: _never_ ) exported.

 **Morse Code** : A method of communication using a system of dashes and dots, heralding from the time of Old Earth. It remains an important ship-to-ship communication technique in cases where transmitted communications or communication systems have failed, and requires direct line-of-sight between ships.

 **Node** : An unfortunate fact of space, space travel, and space communication is that space is unfathomably vast. While the time and distance limitation of moving a physical object through space has been resolved by FTL flight, the exchange of any type of communication transmission is limited by the very laws of physics and is a problem that has only been partially resolved by technology. Every regime -- the Empire, the Conglomerate, mercenaries, Pirates, individual Houses, alien races -- use nodes scattered through space as _relays_ that use a hybrid FTL technology to warp space and accelerate transmissions of any kind, managing near-realtime communications even across multiple galaxies.

 **Nose rising past the vector** : Pirate slang, though variations of this phrase exists throughout every galaxy. A vector refers to the horizontal plane of a ship; the nose, or keel, of a ship is expected to be on that same axial plane. Sudden acceleration forces the axial plane to shift. If the keel rises out of proportion with the vector, there is a more turbulent engine wake that can be detected by ship sensors.

 **Nanomesh** : A high-tech fabric designed to absorb the kinetic energy of a projectile weapon and resistant to cutting and shearing forces. Usually the first layer of a suit of armour worn by Pirates, followed by light flex-plating and heavier protective plates.

 **Needlers** : Slang that refers to soldiers of the White Legion. The name refers to the single- or three-person ship that these soldiers use to drill through the hull of an enemy ship and to board.

 **Needle ships** : Long, torpedo-like space vehicles made with a thin foil skin. Designed to carry one man or three people, maximum. The nose of the ship is equipped with a drill or laser (most often, it is an explosive substance) to breach a ship's hull and to allow entrance, sealing off damage to maintain an atmospheric seal. The Needle ships are not intended for long-range transport, to act as escape pods, or meant for anything other than single-use. They may be modified for specific types of incursions.

 **Negaton bomb** : The negaton bomb is considered to be both a scientific triumph and an experiment gone wrong. The names of the scientists who created the negaton phenomenon are long lost to infamy, but the original intent was the creation of a different type of fission engine for propulsion that would be capable of attaining both near-FTL and FTL speeds. The mathematics, though sound on paper, proved to be a theoretical disaster -- the end result did not equate the predicted outcome. The negaton effect causes micro-tears in space-time that, when released, rebound on the very fabric of space-time itself. The amount of energy liberated causes the equivalent of violent tsunami ocean waves to ripple across space, damaging and destroying anything and everything in its way -- ships, asteroids, planets, even stars. The use of the negaton technology is banned in sixty-two galaxies, including the entirety of Imperial space.

 **Net** : An intergalactic spectrum of Imperial communication nodes scattered throughout the Empire and self-containing the sum total of all electronic information stored since its inception. The Net is not inclusive to the Empire, as several illegal non-Imperial nodes are scattered through both Imperial and uncharted/unclaimed space and linked to access the main nodes while blocking trackback (i.e., shadow nodes, Pirate nodes). In theory, the Net resembles a fisherman's crosscheck net, each node linked to a minimum of four other nodes. If one line in the node breaks, there are multiple backup lines, and no information (or node) is ever truly lost.

 **New Amsterdam** : A planet in Imperial space known for its athletes. They produce popular and powerful teams that often go head-to-head with the athletes from Manchester Seven.

 **No Man's Land** : There is a zone of space outside Imperial and Conglomerate purview, and that is the No Man's Land. It is a strip of space that borders a wide, empty expanse between galaxies where mercenaries congregate, often lingering along the fringes for rest, relaxation, and repair following a mission. It is also the perfect staging point, one from which their routes cannot be tracked, because the ionization radiation in the sector make it difficult to separate a real engine trail from background noise.

 **Nor** ; also, _Norian Physicians_ : Although there are many schools of medicine in the Empire that range the gamut from outright quackery to skilled xenobiological surgeons and gifted touch-Healers, the Norian Physicians are always in high demand. They are, primarily, skilled diagnosticians and are valued for their ability to identify the nature of an ailment and point toward plausible courses of treatment against diseases. A patient diagnosed by a Norian Physician is guaranteed full recovery, with the caveat that the Physician must first identify the disease and have it confirmed by a second Norian Physician, and there exists a cure in the first place.

 **Nunos III** : A backwater planet on the outer fringes of Imperial space.

 **opalTickets** : All-access pass tickets for luxury liners.

 **Parley** : A tradition that stems from the early days of the Pirate Clans, with very strict rules of protocol, _parley_ may be requested, even enacted, between conflicting parties for purposes of discussion, debate, of even clarification in an attempt to resolve an issue. One (grudgingly) acceptable use of parley is to stall a blood feud or a battle in the hopes of reaching an acceptable compromise.

 **Pingback** : A pingback may refer to one of many things, including sensor confirmation of an invisible object in space, a communication or transmission handshake, or an electronic tracking through the Net or some other device.

 **Pirate council** : The Pirate council is made up of the Clanheads who advise the Pirate King on matters of state.

 **Pirate King** : The democratically-installed leadership of the Pirate Clans, voted into position by every Clanhead sitting on the Pirate Council. The position is neither hereditary nor indicative of royalty, and is held for the (sometimes short) lifetime of the individual or until the individual is deposed by unanimous decision of the council. Only current Clanheads may be nominated for the position, and once acclaimed, these individuals cease to become the heads of their Clan (the position is permanently delegated to another member of the Clan, usually family or another suitable candidate at the former Clanhead's discretion) and represent all of the Clans as a whole. Despite the perception, the decisions of a Pirate King are not automatically accepted; it is the Pirate King's responsibility to encourage the Clanheads to accept a consensus decision.

 **Physician** : A doctor, trained in human and/or alien physiology. A physician may or may not also be gifted with Healing magic.

 **Port hops** : Slang. Refers to coordinates of space travel taking a ship from one space station to another.

 **Quorum** : A quorum is a minimum number of members of a political group required to make an overruling decision for a government or an act of law.

 **Rack time** : Any amount of free time specifically designed for rest or sleep.

 **Red Light District** : Core world slang for disreputable sections of ground or space cities where a citizen may trade credits or favours in exchange for sexual acts.

 **Roman squares** : A standard, by-the-book space battle tactic. Several ships are positioned in an open box formation, with the open end at the aft position. The formation typically fans out as they approach the enemy in a surprise flattening movement that spreads out and attacks more troops. This attack formation can mask the actual number of ships in the attack queue, but can equally work as a bluffing tactic.

 **Royal Guard** : The personal army of not only the Emperor, but the entirety of the Houses. Traditionally made up of men and women from the House of Shadows, they nonetheless accept all exceptional citizens of the Empire into this illustrious service.

 **Scavenger rights** : Also called Salvage Rights. There are scavenger rights throughout every galaxy, and every single local government has their own interpretation of the rules. The basis of scavenger rights maintains that the ship who found and/or logged the claim first maintains the right to a dead ship in space. The laws established by the Empire are by far the most convoluted and difficult to prove, never mind understand, whereas the Pirates are fairly ruthless and straightforward in making a ruling. In either case, if a surviving crew remains on board the dead ship, nothing will go well for them.

 ** _Scka-galen_** : Never explicitly given a name in the Imperial Medical Library and identified only by the symptoms and end result of the toxin, the _scka-galen_ is a poison made out of a rare mixture of herbs, the sources and origins unknown, the precise toxins extracted through a series of fractionation steps and purified by distillation. The exact ratio of herbs is unknown, but once purified and mixed together, the final process creates a single semi-sentient molecule that temporarily lays dormant in a victim before ravaging the body and killing them. There is no safe handling of the toxin, and there is no known cure. The origins of and circumstances that required the creation of such a toxin are unknown to all but the House of Shadows, who are the only ones who are naturally resistant and can handle it without suffering repercussions. It is believed that by sharing the shadow-soul with an infected individual, the damage wrought by the toxin can be reversed and the toxin itself returned to a dormant state. The sharing of a shadow-soul is permanent, and can only be performed by a Shadowlord.

 **Safe Sex Machines:** In a time when medicine has more or less eradicated most common _homo sapiens_ sexual diseases, but has yet to attain 100% prevention against sexual diseases crossing the biological divide between alien species, most of the less reputable quarters of space stations and planets where there is significant alien-human interaction have been equipped with these machines, which provide a variety of species-specific paraphernalia. 

**Salvage Rights** : see _Scavenger rights_.

 **Seers** : On rare occasion among the Pirates, a child is born with psychic ability. This ability may sometimes include a range of telepathy and mild telekinesis, but more commonly clairvoyance -- the ability to see some time into the future. While most children outgrow this psychic ability when they hit puberty despite the Pirates' best attempts to train and nurture this gift, those who retain the ability immediately retain their independence and autonomy from all the Clans, training together to heighten their abilities. It is considered disastrous to insult a Seer, who will never read the future for a Clan again, but any Clan who wins a Seer's favour wins that favour for the life of the Seer. The genetic origin of the psychic abilities have long been a mystery, but there is speculation that those born with the gift (for however long they are able to use it) may be descended from an Imperial royal House and bear alien genetic traces in their DNA. Alas, the Book of Blood has never been digitized, and the only copy sits in the Capital, and a true answer to the question of the Seers' origins remains unanswered.

 **Sensor lock** : When targeting systems have a confirmed identified target, they are said to have locked onto that target. The targeting system will continue to track a particular target regardless of coordinates or course. A sensor lock is difficult to shake in combat situations.

 **Shadow Guard** : In the time before the Conglomerate, the Emperor and his family were protected by the elite warriors from the House of Shadows. These men and women were called the Shadow Guard. Except for the Shadowlord bound to the Emperor, the identities of the Shadow Guard were secret; they were officially members of the Royal Guard.

 **Shadow Litany:** The basic principles upon which every member of the House of Shadows, from the royal line down to the simplest servant, base their lives. Only the House of Dragons know of its existence, but not its secrets. The origin of the litany predates even the formation of the House of Shadows, and, as descendants of the now-extinct alien race with whom they share their blood, the House of Shadows are the sole bearers of these ancient, often obscure, secrets. An excerpt of the litany reads:

  
_Two broken lines bound_   
_One side golden bright_   
_The other shadowsworn_   
_An eternity of balance._   


It is unknown to what these lines refer to, but there have been many schools of thought on the matter. It is believed to be part of a prophecy regarding unity and balance in the universe. A different passage, no less confusing, reads:

  
_For brave we fight against the darkness_   
_Knowing we Guard the Light._   
_Our strength is greatest in the binding_   
_And in binding we preserve the Right._   


**Shadowlords** : A title of martial and magical rank given within the House of Shadows. An extremely high level of prowess and proficiency is required to attain this rank. It is above the rank of Adept and Master. Although it is also traditionally only achievable by the members of the royal bloodline, it is not usually always awarded to them without first attaining that rank.

 **Shadowplanet** : Terminology only used by the members of House of Shadows. Refers to the planet the House was forced to take residence as part of their exile. The members of House of Shadows continue to consider their original homeworld as their homeworld, even if born on the shadowplanet (or elsewhere) during their exile.

 **Shuttles** : A small transport ship, intended for short trips.

 **Sidescuttle** : An alternative term for portholes ("port hole windows") on a ship. A porthole or a sidescuttle is a window of any shape or configuration on any section or level of a space ship.

 **Sitrep** : Military slang. Short for "situation report"

 **Slipstream** : A particularly sleek ship configuration equipped with an illegal slipstream drive. Slipstream engines were banned in the Empire because of the erroneous perception that they cut through space as a mode of travel, and as a result temporarily destabilizes space itself at the arrival and end points. However, it being an _erroneous_ conclusion, the slipstream actually does no such thing. The engine is capable of producing speeds similar to those attainable by foldspace (Pirate) technology, but is a relic of an era when multiple engine types and space travel methods flooded the market. Its inventor passed away and destroyed all of her plans, and a slipstream engine is a rare, valued breed.

 **Snakeheads** : also known as Coyotes. Underground organization specializing in smuggling people across the Imperial border. Until the death of Emperor Constantin, all smuggling was performed in one direction -- _to_ the Empire, where all citizens, regardless of their status, were permitted employment and health care. Since the Imperial Conglomerate came to power, the smuggling was done in the _other_ direction -- away from the Empire. Their name is taken from human smugglers on Old Earth who filled much the same function, but specialized in transfers between continents.

 **Snake Run** : A mission to liberate an individual from the Empire and smuggle them across the Imperial border..

 **Spaceport** : The area of a space station where ships dock for the unloading or loading of passengers or cargo or temporary mooring of ships.

 **Spartan triangle** : A space battle tactic borrowed from ancient times. It has two configurations. The first is a two-dimensional positioning of ships in an actual triangle. The second is a three-dimensional positioning of the ships in a pyramidal formation. It is typically used at a throttle point in space, to prevent the passage of enemy ships, but can also be used to act as a spear point to scatter approaching enemy fleets.

 **Stationmaster** : The position in charge of a spaceport.

 **Sterling** : also known as Silver Sterling. Considered to be the dominant and largest form of monetary exchange, a Sterling is made of a silvery metallic material considered to be among the rarest and most sought-after coin in the Empire. It is considered to be an untraceable source of credits and frowned upon in the Empire -- the Conglomerate doesn't like not knowing how much it can tax its citizens. The Conglomerate has devalued the silver Sterling compared to the credits that are normally distributed across the Imperial Conglomerate in order to discourage its use. Pirates and Mercenaries, however, have been stockpiling silver Sterlings, which they consider valuable.

 **Stonewood** : A material, much like fibrous organic wood, that grows out of silicate material and may be similarly worked, although with difficulty. Some heavier types of stonewood are surprisingly resistant to damage.

 **System-time** : Denoted system-years, system-months, system-weeks or system-days, these are standard units of time that are used throughout the universe. They are based on the average circadian rhythm of the human race, as established on their planet of origin, and it is a system that has not changed in thousands of years. Alien races, however, have their own standard timing that is rooted in base-ten, which requires a zero-point-four correction factor to mesh properly with human standard time.

 **Temple of Ealdor** : A sacred building deep within the core of the original House of Shadows homeworld where an initiate of any rank or skill and any citizen under the House of Shadows may come to meditate in a perfect shadow created from a careful balance between light and darkness. 

**Triad** : Used in conjunction with the White Legion, a Triad is a team of three soldiers on a mission.

 **Uncharted zone** : The portion of space that has neither been explored nor claimed by the Empire nor the Imperial Conglomerate. It is widely known to be Pirate territory and an area in which to travel at one's own risk.

 **Valle Reaches** : A galaxy in uncontrolled/uncharted space outside of Pirate territory that is considered to be a rat's nest of smugglers and mercenaries.

 **Vid** : Short form for video. Typically used to describe a two-dimensional image or projection.

 **Volante** : A galaxy in uncontrolled/uncharted space bordering Imperial space and a hotbed of mercenary activity.

 **Walk the plank** : Pirate slang. When breaching and boarding a ship, the Pirates employ a cheap boarding bridge. This boarding bridge is known as the plank. While once upon a time this phrase meant getting rid of an unruly crew member or passenger (now called "blowing them out the airlock"), this term now refers to the crossing between ships.

 **Walter PK-series pulse weapons** : Compact pistol weaponry intended for use in space. Projectiles consist of plasma pulses, which are compressed laser beams. The 90cs model has a design flaw and can overcharge and explode; as a result, this model is off the market. The more popular 1100 model is the most commonly purchased weapon on both legal and illegal markets.

 **Weapons hot** : In military parlance, this is a command given to activate the weapons array on a ship and to prepare for a firing sequence.

 **Whale** : Pirate slang referring to the energy trails of a passing ship in space. Any kind of seafaring animal is used in this manner, but a _dolphin_ implies a smaller craft or shuttle.

 **White Legion** : The White Legion, also called simply the Legion, first appeared in the early years of the Imperial Conglomerate. Initially a small unit made up of men and women who had assisted in the exile of the so-called traitor House of Shadows, but forgiven of any complicity, the White Legion quickly became an elite, fearsome army. Over the years, their numbers increased quickly -- both by attrition of soldiers recruited into the ranks and by the suspected illegal genetic splicing and rapid growth of young soldiers using Shadow DNA to create the perfect soldier. Generally, the White Soldiers work in three man teams that may or may not be led by _Elites_. The Elites themselves are unique in that they are the descendants of the men and women who were once members of the House of Shadows. These Elites are usually indicated by strips of lavender on their white armour.

 **Witch's cage** : An unconventional battle tactic, pioneered by the Pirates. After the enemy is trapped in a snarl of high-tension or energy netting, an electrical charge is applied to the cabling or a frequency changes in the energy netting, forcing it to become rigid. This solidifies in a cage that is left dangling, with ships crashing into each other when they can't compensate for inertial inter-ship gravity and proximity. It is called a _witch's cage_ because the net result often resembles a nasty snarl, reminiscent of a traditional image of witches with crazy hair.


	4. Chapter 4

 

  


 

"Send a fresh round over to that table," Arthur said, pointing toward the large corner booth on the far end of the tavern. He waited until the bartender filled the glasses with what was definitely _not_ what his crew would be drinking and dropped a handful of hard coppers to cover the cost.

A stoop-shouldered server with coarse green-grey skin and eight pink eyes blurbed a curse through a tentacled mouth and hauled the large tray onto his -- _its'_? -- shoulder, sloshing too-thick foam from a mis-pour onto the coarse linen of his shirt.

Arthur waited for the other drinks -- a bottle of house whiskey, barrel-aged in the steamy back room deep within the station's entrails where few dared go, even the port's own engineers -- and glanced around as surreptitiously as he could.

"Interesting place," Kay said, beside him. 

Arthur tilted his head in agreement. If he was going to do a runner, he was going to do a runner someplace nice. A beachfront, maybe. Definitely somewhere with an ocean. He'd rent a sailboat and take it out into the crisp blue waters where he would toast a successful escape with a bottle of fine wine. 

Except Morgana had interfered.

 _"If you're going to go, Arthur,_ go _," Morgana said, arching her eyebrow in that sharp but precise way that left Arthur wondering if she were annoyed with his antics, or if there was a carefully hidden message in her words.  
_ _  
_ _"You're just waiting for me to leave so that you can stage a coup while I'm not here to stop it," Arthur countered. Morgana hadn't quite decided if she were going to test her lineage against the Book of Blood, but the more time she spent at the Imperial court, the more she warmed to the idea. Clan Leodegrace was once again House Leodegrace, but Gwen had chosen to keep the Clan in Pirate territory, where Arthur knew she would be happiest.  
_ _  
_ _"Perhaps," Morgana said, elegant in her rich silver-grey gown, looking like a Queen. "But I will not be able to initiate my plans if you do not go_ now _."  
_ _  
_ _"Now," Arthur repeated, because this time, he tingled in response to the power in Morgana's tone. "Very well._ Now _. I should pack, then."  
_ _  
_ _"Yes. You should," Morgana said, and walked to the door. Arthur tracked her until she reached the doorway, a hand resting on the frame. She turned to him and said, "Arthur. It's called the_ Rising Sun _."  
_ _  
_ _She was gone in a sweep and flutter of silvery fabric, and Arthur cursed. Morgana was never so_ precise _when she dropped hints that Arthur should do something. He abandoned his plans for an ocean getaway and sent a message to his crew to meet him._  
 _  
_Arthur said none of this to Kay. The Royal Court was still getting accustomed to the idea that the lost Houses weren't truly lost, but had grown stronger since their absence in the Empire. Arthur wasn't looking forward to the backlash once they realized that one of Arthur's closest advisors was not only another member of a lost House just as rare as Arthur's, but that she was also a powerful _clairvoyant_ , to boot.

He looked around the tavern. One day, he would have the courage to ask Morgana exactly what she foresaw in her visions, but she had always been right thus far. For now, Arthur was content to follow her suggestion. Even if it meant coming _here_ , of all places.

The _Rising Sun_ was a favourite retreat for mercenaries and Pirates alike, tucked in a decrepit space station that might lose integrity at any given moment, its liquor stores perpetually stocked with legal and illegal wares. The menu ranged from microbrewed beer distilled from the belly of the space station with a very distinct aftertaste of cheap jet fuel, and Galayan rum knock-off that was almost as good as the real deal. The only appeal was the food, home-cooked and palatable, but dropped on tables by surly waiters and waitresses who only added to the atmosphere.

But _atmosphere_ and the meagre offerings weren't the reasons why the underbelly of civilization congregated in a tavern that had been built uncomfortably close to an airlock with controls no one could find. The tavern was in constant danger of blowing out if one too many patrons moved from one side to the room to the other faster than the station's inertial dampeners could compensate for the shift in weight. The _Rising Sun_ was a favourite for one reason and one reason only. 

Everything that happened at the _Rising Sun_ stayed at the _Rising Sun_.

A big-name vid-screen star doped to the gills with the fragrant smoke of whatever was the latest drug craze up their nostrils and an alien cock (or two) down their throat? The Councillor of the sports matches accepting a case full of silver Sterlings in bribes? The members of rival mercenary ships, sworn to a bitter blood feud over a petty contract that wasn't worth the loss in life that it had caused, sharing a few pints over stale prawn crisps?

No one batted an eye.

And if someone happened to notice the ruler of the Empire purchasing cheap whiskey and ale? Well, Arthur might get a second glance, but only if he lowered his hood. He wasn't stupid -- of course he wouldn't come here without some sort of disguise. Despite the disguise, those second glances tended more toward flirtatious attempts to get into his pants than to try to bilk him of his Imperial throne.

"It's a favourite," Arthur said, taking the glasses slammed down in front of them. He handed a tumbler to Kay and grabbed the bottle for himself. "You can get away with anything, here."

"I rather doubt that I'd get away with failing to protect you," Kay muttered, barely loud enough for Arthur to hear. There were times that Arthur regretted promoting Kay both in rank and in duties, because Kay took his job _too_ seriously, sometimes. And, given that Kay's mother had an affair with one of the mysterious Shadow Guards before the fall of the Empire, and the man's talent for suddenly appearing right when Arthur was about to do something stupid, he was approaching Merlin-levels of fanaticism in keeping Arthur safe and sound.

 _Stupid_ , in this case was leaving Camelot, boarding a tourist transport, hopping onto a freighter, and hiring a mercenary ship to drop him off at a spaceport that would have been condemned and slated for destruction if it hadn't drifted out of Empire space fifty years ago.

All on Morgana's say-so.

Still, Arthur preferred to keep Morgana out of it. Arthur was certain that she had a reason for sending him out here, and that it would manifest itself anytime now. He'd meant to come here by himself, but of course...

Kay.

Kay had been _waiting_ for him at the ticket counter, elbow slung nonchalantly over the desk, drumming his fingers impatiently. Arthur had had no choice but to invite him along, if for no other reason than to keep Kay from telling on him.

"Tell me again why the local hole on Albion couldn't suit your tastes," Kay said, holding out his glass. Arthur sloshed a generous few fingers into the tumbler and grimaced in sympathy when Kay made a face. "I'm sure they have rotgut even worse than this somewhere in their cellars. Did we really have to hop eight ships and dodge through two spaceports to get here?"

"Ah," Arthur said, considering. He shrugged. "Most likely not, but that's part of the fun. Also, it's constitutionally illegal for anything but the finest to be sold anywhere on Albion. Did you know that? I didn't know that. I'll be repealing that law as soon as we get back. It's quite unfair to the masses -- they have a right to purchase anything they bloody well like."

Kay snorted, unimpressed.

That was why Arthur liked having Kay around. Absolutely nothing rattled him. He saw through Arthur's bollocks and was polite enough to say so, but he also knew when to play along. Kay hadn't asked why Arthur had fled the Imperial capital, and Arthur hadn't told him, but Kay seemed to understand, anyway.

For weeks now, the itch to pack up and _go_ had been building up. Morgana was the instigator, but she wasn't the cause.

Meetings after meeting. Dealing with the Royal Court and the Pirate council. Haranguing a few mercenary guild members about the ridiculous fees they were charging for patrolling a section of space when Arthur damn well knew they were parking their ship on an asteroid and playing cards instead. Appearance after appearance at one planet or another.

Arthur had had enough. He deserved a vacation. And since he knew that there was no way that the Royal Court would allow him to have one without first putting it to a vote, and that putting it to the vote would take at least a month of debate, and there would be a few weeks in there before they even reached that bullet point on the agenda…

Cutting out the middleman to save the citizens of the Empire a few Sterling had truly been the only option left for Arthur.

The tentacled server over at the corner booth finished dispensing the cheap ale around the table and pointed in Arthur's direction. Arthur read the confusion on his crewmen's faces. They wouldn't recognize Arthur, not in plain beige breeches and a long-sleeved linen tunic -- the body armour had been the only allowance Arthur had brought along for his personal safety when Kay turned an unflattering shade of protesting purple -- and a heavy brown cloak that swathed him as if he were a monk.

But they spotted Kay standing beside him -- Kay dressed down beautifully, looking just as comfortable in navy blue trousers cut to fit and several layers of button-down shirts beneath a hip-length leather peacoat that hid the armoury he carried around -- and understanding dawned. Frowns of displeasure turned into big, broad grins, and Gwaine stood up, sticking the index finger of both hands into his mouth, whistling loudly before waving at them to come over.

"Care to join them?" Arthur asked. "We should. They'll throw a fit until we do."

Kay gave Arthur a long, dark look that was full of veiled nuances and meanings. There was another reason why Arthur liked having Kay around -- Kay was brilliant. He might have grown up under the Conglomerate regime, bullied and chastised for joining the _Imperial_ army, but he was smart. He knew the hand he'd been dealt, and Arthur had given him a poor hand, indeed.

What happened in the Rising Sun might stay at the Rising Sun, but that didn't mean that the patrons wouldn't take the foreknowledge of a certain someone's patronage as they exited, laying in wait in anticipation of claiming the Conglomerate bounty that had been posted on Arthur's head.

The Empire might have been won the war. The Conglomerate might have been defeated. But that didn't mean that they weren't still lurking in a planet's backside, somewhere, plotting their next move. Bounties for the lives of every crewman on _Excalibur_ had been posted, but the fee for Arthur himself was worth all of them combined.

Arthur should be flattered.

Kay was annoyed. He was also likely plotting several probable escape routes.

"Chin up, mate. You look like someone pissed in your drink," Arthur said, pushing off from the bar and working his way through the crowd toward the corner table.

"I think someone did," Kay muttered, following after.

Arthur was hardly the only patron to wear a hooded jacket or a cloak with a cowl covering their heads to disguise their identity, but he couldn't help but to glance over his shoulder now and again, or to study someone whose body shape was familiar. 

"He's not here," Kay said. It wasn't Arthur's imagination; Kay sounded glum. 

Arthur ignored him.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Gwaine said, clapping Arthur heartily on the shoulder. He snatched the bottle of whiskey out of Arthur's hand and shoved Arthur into the booth, forcing Geraint and Galahad to shift over and the rest of the bridge crew to reshuffle to put Arthur in a protected position.

Arthur scowled. There had been a day when the crew would leave Arthur on the edge of the booth to fend for himself, but he supposed he would have to accept that those days were long past. At least Kay seemed less stressed now that the crew had circled the ships around to protect precious cargo.

"Nice to see you too, Gwaine," Arthur said, his tone dry. "Always so welcoming."

"Well, it's not like you to show up after you ship _Excalibur_ out to the arse's end of nowhere and tell us to stay put and wait for further instructions, all cagey-like, as if this were a spy thriller or summat," Gwaine said.

"Don't look at me," Leon said, holding up his hands. "He didn't say anything to me about this. And no amount of beer or whiskey will buy you my forgiveness for the shitestorm I'll have to deal with when we get back."

"He could've splurged on the _good_ beer, at the very least," Galahad said.

"And rum. _Rum_ , Captain," Geraint said. "How dare you treat us like the common rabble. We're Pirates. We demand rum. Rum is in our blood. We'll die without it."

"How much has he had?" Arthur said, pushing the hood from his head. He pointedly ignored the glare that Kay shot his way. It was a glare doubled in intensity when Leon joined in.

"Eight ales, two shots of whiskey --" Galahad said, pausing as Geraint grabbed the bottle that Arthur had brought over. "And a mostly-full bottle of whiskey, if you give him five minutes to get completely soused."

"I hope he doesn't have the next shift," Arthur remarked.

"Alas, no, that task falls to me. My sincerest apologies, Captain, but you'll have to settle for second best," Galahad said, flipping a rude gesture.

"Aw, Perce, I guess that means you're up," Gwaine said.

Galahad's expression turned thunderous, while Perceval looked like an _illin_ -deer trapped in the headlights of a three-wheeler.

"I… suppose I could take the helm?" Perceval suggested carefully. 

"Only if we want you to turn _Excalibur_ into a missile and ram us into the side of the next ship on our next quest for for pillage --" Lance said. He shot Arthur a shifty glance, as if he'd said too much. He corrected himself with a gracious sweep of his hand. "-- for _inspection_ , that is. We never know what kind of illegal cargo these people are bringing into the Empire."

"Oh, yes.. Definitely not. Particularly lately. It seems like the rats are coming out of the woodworks now that a Pirate King sits on the Imperial throne. They think that their little liberties will be overlooked," Elyan said.

"Or at least heavily taxed," Leon said wryly.

Arthur grinned, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks. His frustration had been mounting without Merlin there to defuse his temper, and holo-sex was nowhere as satisfying has having the real thing there with him. Plus, there were certain things that holos couldn't reproduce, like the helpless sensation of being held down by Merlin's shadows, for one thing.

Considering that Arthur usually preferred to be the one doing the tying-up, he was a very willing participant in role reversal when it came to Merlin.

Leon passed a bowl of fried… _something_ , and Arthur took one without thinking too hard about its origins. The palace chefs had been tripping over themselves creating obnoxious platters of rare and exotic dishes, often creating monstrosities that were pretty to look at, but that were hardly edible. Arthur had insisted that they stop wasting the household funds with the ostentatious expense of exportation -- his biased suggestion of using the Pirates as cheaper trade merchants had been loudly refused -- and source the ingredients locally. He had yet to get through a dinner without feeling slightly ill, and he lamented the fresh grilled fish and simple stewed vegetables of his Clanworld.

For all that Albion was primarily a water planet, no one knew how to fish. It was a damn shame.

"Go on, then," Arthur said, wagging a crispy stick that might be a giant insect's hind leg, for all that he knew. "What am I missing? Surely there's gossip to be had."

"Well," Geraint began, slurring a little as he tilted his head to glance at Galahad, who looked away with a big grin and deep-chested laugh, clapping his hands with glee, "It appears that I've lost a bet."

" _Another_ bet," Galahad said, leaning forward. "One for which he was sober and well aware, too. In front of witnesses, and he can't use the distraction of, oh, a gigantic battle as an excuse to duck out."

"Hence the drinking," Geraint said, waving the bottle of stolen whiskey in the air. His aim was a little off and he would have clonked the bottom against Leon's temple if Perceval hadn't been in the way.

The bottle bounced from Perceval's shoulder, landed on the table with a clattering clunk, and gurgled a few fingers of precious amber liquid before Gwaine caught it with a shriek and set it upright.

"And pray, what was the bet?" Arthur asked.

"That he'd suck Gwaine's brains out of his cock if Gwaine could hit the right wing of some pesky Imperial Peacekeeper who wouldn't get off our arses long enough for us to make a jump," Elyan said.

"Why the right wing?"

"I thought it would be harder to hit than the left," Geraint complained. "Plus, Gwaine was on _fore and port_ at the time. I still say he cheated and used the aft weapons --"

"And I told you he didn't," Lucan said, hiding a grin behind a foaming mug.

"Lies. Lies, all of it. You're just wanting to see Gwaine shut up about winning… about winning… _this_ ," Geraint said, making a grab for the bottle. Gwaine put it out of Geraint's reach. "You're all against me, that's what you are. You faked the records to show he did it clean, but I know better, I do."

"Are you impinging on my honour?" Lance asked, his tone dropping into the cold, warning zone that even Arthur knew to avoid. "Are you saying that I'd do such a thing?"

"I'm saying you'd do such a thing," Geraint said. He waved a hand around the table. "You'd all do anything to keep Gwaine from whinging about how lonely his cock has been these days."

No one at the table spoke. Finally, Lance shrugged and said, "Fair point. But, I'll have it noted that I've kept out of it. Sorry, mate. Gwaine is just as good as he says he is. He won the bet fair and square."

For all that Gwaine sat up straighter, spreading his hands as he made a scoffing _of course I did_ gesture, Arthur thought that he was being unusually silent on the matter.

"What else, then?" Arthur asked, waving over the bottle of whiskey to refill his tumbler. It was passed from Kay to Lance to Gwaine, and by the time Arthur poured out what was left, there was barely enough for a single sip. He glared at his men.

"I heard Morgause is sleeping with Aredian," Lance offered.

"That's..." Arthur paused and tried to come up with something diplomatic. He failed.

"Awkward?" Leon suggested.

"Let's go with _awkward_ ," Arthur said, though _appalled_ was more the order of the day.

"I wonder who tops in that relationship," Galahad mused. The table groaned.

"... and never speak of it again," Arthur said firmly.

"Pellinor's perfected the next generation of ship cloaking technology," Perceval said. "Nearly ready for mass production. I don't know the details, but it'll bleed into energy shields for the bigger ships, make less of a drain on the engines. But you didn't hear that from us. He's hoping to equip all our ships before he offers a different version to the Empire."

"For cost," Arthur remarked.

"'Course for cost," Perceval said with a scoff. "What do you think we are? Imperialists?"

Arthur helped himself to the last of the fried taters from Perceval's plate.

"Oi," Perceval scowled.

"Cenred killed Olaf," Galahad said. 

The conversation around the table stopped abruptly. 

"I hadn't heard that," Elyan said. He leaned forward, an arm on the table, his chin down, his eyes narrow. "And I hear _everything_ , mate."

"I thought Olaf was taken care of," Arthur said. It had been unanimous. Once they had some breathing room during the war, Arthur had returned to the Pirate homeworlds to attend to some pressing council matters. One of those was accepting Vivian as the heir to Clan Sommerlund and its new Clanhead despite Olaf's refusal to step down. 

It was a matter of courtesy only, a way to allow both Olaf and Clan Sommerlund to save face given all the offences that Olaf had been charged with. While there was no direct crime committed -- colluding to kill the King in the hopes of being elected in turn was hardly a new happenstance, though it was frowned upon to be so indiscreet as to be _caught_ \-- none of the Clans looked too fondly upon being betrayed in the process. It had, ultimately, been an unanimous decision, and the punishment for selling the Clans out to the Conglomerate was death.

"Thought so, too," Galahad said, shrugging a shoulder. "But my sister's mate is best friends with the second cousin of the bloke in charge of the ferries on the Kingsworld, and he shagged the Captain of the prison ship meant to take Olaf out to the deep. Only, he didn't make it to the ship, and the bloke in charge of the ferries heard from the brother of the head of the corpsmen who were escorting Olaf over to the boat, and it turns out that the transport taking him over was sabotaged. The mechanic who worked on the transport told his husband who told his uncle who mentioned it at the pub, you know the one, the hole in the wall with the crossed oars and the treasure chest?"

"The _X Marks the Spot_?" Arthur asked.

"No, the other one," Galahad said.

"The _Sand Trap_?" Leon asked.

"No, that's got the broken hourglass dripping sand in a pit," Lucan said.

"Have they fixed that? I got sand in my ale the last time I drank there," Gwaine said. "Added a peculiar flavour, it did, but it wasn't bad."

"Still broken," Galahad said. "But, no, that's not the one. Anyway, never mind, the pub's not important. What's important is that he has a big gob, and this pretty lass that I met the last time I was planetside happens to be working there, and she told me the whole story --"

"You mean you could've skipped this whole bollocks and given us the meat of it?" Leon asked, looking glassy eyed. 

"Could've, but where's the fun in that?" Galahad asked. His eyes widened comically and he threw his hands up to protect his head when everyone in arm's reach smacked him. "If you don't quit it, I'm not telling you what happened!"

Arthur let the men go at it for a little longer before he cleared his throat. "All right, lads. Let him talk, this is one story I want to hear."

"Oh, thank the Stars," Galahad said, brushing back his hair.

" _Succinctly_ ," Arthur said.

"Aye, Captain," Galahad said, touching two fingers to his brow and swinging his hand out in a lazy salute. "Anyway, looks like Cenred took particular offence to Olaf's choice in outerwear -- wore that garish orange jacket with the deep purple streaks --"

" _Galahad_ ," Leon warned.

"Right, right. Whatever his reasons, his crew stopped the transport, offloaded Olaf, made as if they were coming to his rescue, and what do you know, Cenred himself puts a blaster round through his skull."

Lance whistled.

"Just like that?" Gwaine asked.

"Just like that," Galahad confirmed.

"I wonder why," Perceval said. "He's not one to martyr himself. He could've been killed."

"He's not one to do much except be led around by his bollocks," Lucan said. "Vivian's got something to do with it, I warrant."

"No question about that," Galahad said. Beside him, Geraint placed his head on his arm and made a hiccupping moan. Galahad patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, but otherwise left him alone. "Put her at the helm of the _Viking's Hammer_ , and she's sold on being Clanhead on top of it."

"But Olaf were meant to swim with the sharks, why waste the round?" Lance asked.

"If I were her, I'd want to be sure he was dead, not floating around on a skiff with a slim chance that he might get lucky and survive on an atoll," Kay said, and the entire table turned to him. He spread his hands and looked confused. "What? It's what makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Are you sure there's no Pirate in your blood?" Perceval asked.

"Not a blessed drop," Kay said.

"So pleased you have him in your personal guard," Gwaine said, pointing at Kay. "We know you're in good hands with that one."

"I don't regret a moment yet," Arthur agreed.

"The big question, in case you gents have forgotten, is why Cenred's doing this, again. What does Vivian have to offer him?" Galahad asked. "Her pants are tighter than Geraint's arse, so we know it's not her soft virtue."

"You said it yourself, Galahad," Lance said, raising his glass. "Who tops?"

There was a chorus of groans all the way around the table. 

"Orright, that's more like it," Elyan said. "That, I'll believe."

Arthur grinned as the conversation degenerated to petty bickering and light teasing and an argument over whose turn it was to pay for the next round of drinks. Perceval lost, and when he got up from his seat, Geraint took the opportunity to stagger out and weave his way into the crowd, heading in the general direction of the loo.

"Oi, someone watch him," Gwaine said, concerned. "Wouldn't want someone to despoil his arse before I've had a chance."

"I'll go," Elyan said, sliding out of the booth.

Arthur gave Gwaine a good, long look. Gwaine smiled enigmatically before breaking eye contact, and that was when Arthur knew he had Gwaine pegged. For all of his crude flirtation and constant rounds of bets with Geraint, Gwaine seemed to be a little tits over arse over the man.

"You never give him a chance to breathe," Arthur said, bumping shoulders with Gwaine. "Give him one, yeah?"

"I'd quit with the blatant ogling and buy him some flowers," Lance suggested. "You never know. You might win him, yet."

"Let's not talk about me, yeah?" Gwaine said, but he offered up a crooked grin that was at least heartfelt, and Arthur had a hope that Gwaine might listen to them this time. "Let's talk about this sorry bloke. Couldn't cut it among the nobles, could he? Ran away like the coward he is. Look at him clutching at our skirts."

"I'm not clutching at anyone's skirts. I'm just a little... homesick," Arthur said by way of explanation. He waved a hand in the air before taking one of the glasses on the table, swirling it around. He drank the last of the beer in it. He was sure that Geraint wouldn't mind.

He caught a glimpse of something familiar in the crowd. Short, tousled black hair. Broad shoulders, lean and slim. Then, the crowd shifted and whoever it had been was gone.

Kay caught his look and stared out into the crowd, but when he didn't see anything, he turned to Arthur. Arthur shook his head, because there was no possible way for it to be Merlin, however much that Arthur wished that it were.

Perceval returned with the next round. Geraint returned, hanging from Elyan's arm, sobbing his misfortune and wailing an accusatory _why do you lot let me make bets_ at everyone. Somehow, the table was reshuffled again, with Arthur tucked against Perceval near the edge, Kay still in position no matter what everyone did to move him around, and Geraint was pushed against Gwaine.

"Oh, _God_. Not him," Geraint said.

"There, there," Gwaine said, wrapping a comforting arm around Geraint's shoulders. "It's all right, mate. I won't hold you to it. Win the next Races for Clan Pendragon, remember me in your acceptance speech, and we'll call it even."

Geraint's eyes were narrowed to suspicious slivers as he regarded Gwaine from up close. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"What's the catch?"

"There is no catch," Gwaine said. Gwaine glanced at Arthur, and Arthur gave him an encouraging nod. He heaved a sigh, waved a hand, and said, "Okay, maybe one tiny, little catch."

"I knew it!" Geraint snarled. "What is it now? Are you going to make me dress up in pretty skirts and bend over, arse-up --"

"Whoa, whoa," Gwaine said, his mouth falling in a mixture of amusement and a lecherous grin, "As tantalizing and tempting as that is, I was only going to suggest you give some thought to having me on your crew at the Races. They're going through the Tears of Myrddin this year -- did you hear that?"

"I... hadn't," Geraint said, his brow furrowed. 

"Well, mate. Shields aren't going to cut it. You're going to need a shooter to keep those crystals from cutting clear through the ship's skin." Gwaine patted Geraint heartily on the shoulder before drawing his arm away. "Think about it, yeah?"

Geraint stared at Gwaine for a long time, his expression twitching from open doubt to suddenly sober consideration. Gwaine leaned forward, taking the beer that Perceval had brought over, and swallowed down the liquid courage that he must have needed to take a step back from openly chasing after Geraint and shifting gears into _courting_.

"How long do we have you, Captain?" Lance asked.

"A bit," Arthur admitted. "Wasted most of our time getting here and ducking tails, or I'd have longer."

"They put the Guards on you?" Lucan asked.

"They did," Kay confirmed. He glanced at his watch. "I warrant they'll be here in a day or two, but we'll be away by then, won't we?"

"Left a note, though. Told them not to worry," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "The Guards are overprotective worrywarts, they are."

He caught the sight of those broad shoulders again. It was a man with ruffled lack hair, his head down; he wore a white shirt that seemed too small for him. His brown trousers were already slung low, and the two belts he wore were being dragged down even more by the weight of the twin blasters on his thighs.

Kay followed his gaze -- and this time, Leon did, too -- but by the time they turned around, the man who had caught Arthur's attention was gone.

Leon clucked his tongue. "Not like you to have the wandering eye, Arthur."

"Haven't seen Merlin in bloody _weeks_ ," Arthur groused. "And, anyway, I'm just looking. No harm in appreciating a nice, pert arse, is there?"

"I don't know," Lance said. "Gwen threatened to eviscerate me, once. Wasn't my fault that the lass lost her shirt in front of me, was it?"

"Knowing you, _yes_ ," Elyan said, snorting.

"Besides the point," Lance said, grinning. He was a rogue, no different than the rest of them; Arthur had no doubt that Lance had engineered some sort of device to make the poor girl's clothing disintegrate. He also had no doubt that Gwen made him pay for that, and thoroughly. "The point being, your boy is bloody _Emrys_. What would he do if he caught you looking?"

"He wouldn't threaten, for one," Lucan said.

"And it wouldn't stop at _eviscerate_ ," Kay said.

"Oi, you," Arthur said, frowning at Kay. "Aren't you supposed to protect me?"

"Oh, aye," Kay said, nodding. "But even I know my limits, and getting between you and m'Lord Merlin? I don't get paid enough for that."

"Hear, hear," Galahad said. "He came straight at me, once -- got the bloke sneaking up behind me, though. I'm still cleaning my britches from that one."

Everyone looked at him.

" _Figuratively_ ," Galahad said. "I meant that _figuratively_. I most definitely did not shite my pants."

"If you say so," Lucan said, wriggling away from Galahad.

"I'd like to see what you do when Emrys is bearing down on your position," Galahad muttered under his breath. 

Arthur smirked.

"Speaking of the missus," Elyan said, pausing to sip his beer. "Where's the ball and chain?"

"Ah. He's…" Arthur made a casual motion with his hand, dismissing it as _really, it doesn't matter_ , and said, "Where he always is, I suppose."

There was an uncomfortable exchange of glances all around the table. Kay pointedly turned away and stared out at the crowd. 

It was no secret that Merlin spent as much time on the House of Shadows' homeworld as he did on Albion. Although most of the rebuilding of the principal city had been completed some time ago and there was little else for Merlin to do beyond ensuring that the initiates and acolytes continued with their training, Merlin lingered there, still.

There was evidence that the Conglomerate had used the planet as a staging area for training of the White Legion Elites. Merlin hadn't explicitly said so, and Arthur was careful not to ask, or he would be forced under the law to launch a full investigation, but the Shadowplanet might also have been used as the location where the Conglomerate had _grown_ their own, private army using a blend of genetic material from some of their best soldiers and from the men and women who had once been House of Shadows.

There might even have been some of those soldiers left behind, which would explain how the numbers of initiates and acolytes had increased in the last few months. Again, Merlin didn't tell Arthur how that happened, and Arthur was careful not to ask.

It was easier to quash rumours and speculation when one had plausible deniability, and for that, Arthur was grateful for Merlin's silence. Still, however baseless the assumptions, there was no denying that they were also _true_.

If it had been up to Arthur, and Arthur had found crèches in an underground laboratory on his homeworld, he would have burned the facility down to the ground.

But since it was _Merlin_ , and a part of him felt kinship toward those who were also born of shadow, Merlin would have evacuated all the viable children and young adolescents, safely removing them from the crèches and the subsequent rapid-growth chambers, _then_ razed the place to the ground.

With a completely new population merging with the old, it was easy to see how the House of Shadows might be in something of turmoil. Even with that, Merlin was needed there, to train, to guide, to overrule the old bastards who ran the House council. Arthur understood, though that didn`t make him feel any less cross about wanting his Shadowlord by his side.

"Did you at least tell him where you were going?" Leon asked, exasperation slipping into his tone.

"Oh ---"

"Short answer to that, mate, and it's not the answer you're looking for," Kay said.

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Traitor."

"Like I said, I'm not the one getting between you and m'Lord Merlin," Kay said, his gaze sharp. "And I'm sure I've made my feelings on this clear. I don't care if you dodge the Court -- they're a bunch of wankers, anyway, and they could do with having the carpet pulled out from under their feet every now and then. But he's yours and you're his, and you're supposed to tell him everything."

"Hear, hear," Lance said.

"Oh, shut your gob, you," Arthur said, scowling faintly. "You just want to share your misery. Gwen's got you wrapped around her little finger."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing," Lance said.

"M'Lord Merlin's got you wrapped around his," Kay said, faint amusement curling his mouth into a smirk that was there one second, gone the next. "You're just too thick to see it."

Arthur snorted, unwilling to give in, but equally unwilling to deny it. Merlin asked for so little that when he _did_ ask, Arthur knew that he would bodily shift the universe itself if that was he needed to do. In a way, he was jealous of Lance and Gwen -- the two of them were strong, independent people, but when they were together, it was difficult to see each of them through the tangle.

He wanted to be like that with Merlin, but to hear his men tell it, they already _were_. 

Leon said, "He doesn't like being away from you any more than you do. I have a feeling he's only away so much now so that he never has to be again."

Arthur held his breath and nodded, exhaling slowly. He would have said something -- if he knew what to say -- when a loud crash at the front of the tavern caught their attention. 

There was a mad scramble through the patrons before a humanoid emerged into a clear spot, his black jacket heavily stained with white smears on shoulders and hips, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to show spindly arms and narrow wrists. A large man reached out to steady him with a familiar hand, and the two of them spoke in low tones before the larger man jerked back, startled and alarmed.

"There's Legion on the station!"

Except for an exchange of glances -- none more subtle than Kay, who arched an eyebrow with a warning _see what you got us into, sneaking out of Albion?_ \-- no one reacted. Gwaine belched loudly, only to be outdone by a big-bellied eight-foot tall alien sitting on the other side of the bar.

"And?" This from another patron, who tried to affect boredom while peering around the tavern to see if there might be anyone that the White Legion would be after, and whether he could reap the benefits, somehow, without breaking the unspoken rules of the _Rising Sun_. 

"They're coming this way, and, oh, I don't know," the short alien said, waving a haphazarded hand in the air. "Half of you lot might want to scatter, the other half might want to hide their Sterling, and the last half might want to hide me, because I have _details_ , okay? I know _things_ you don't want your mothers to hear about, and I might be tempted to sell them to the Legion."

The crowd stared at him blankly. "Or we could just give you to them and ask if we can watch while they torture you."

"I didn't think of that." The alien stood stock still, lost in thought, his big, round eyes blinking slowly, the lids making a loud, sluicing sound whenever they split apart. Then, as if realizing that the threat had been quite serious, the alien _meep_ ed and dove through the crowd, looking for an avenue of escape.

"Well," Arthur said, holding up his empty glass, the dregs swirling around the bottom, "If no one else's getting the next round --"

"It's not your turn," Leon said.

"I'm not complaining," Lucan said. "If the Captain wants to get us a round, the Captain can get us a round, even if it's a thinly-veiled attempt to get close enough to overhear gossip."

"I'm out of practice if I'm that obvious," Arthur said flatly.

"It's all the rubbing elbows with royalty," Lance said. "They're sanding down your rough edges."

"Getting soft, you are," Perceval said, poking Arthur's ribs. He raised a brow. "Or someone's feeding you very well."

"Oh, shut it." Arthur scowled. One of the cooks, bless her, had discovered Arthur's sweet tooth and prepared desserts for every meal. As delicious as they were, he was going to have to give them up before he couldn't squeeze into his trousers anymore.

Leon ducked his head and smirked. Arthur glared at him, _daring_ Leon to tell the crew the story of when he'd barged into Arthur's chambers, thinking he'd heard the sounds of a struggle, but it had only been Arthur, trying to hop into his body armour with limited success. When the gales of laughter finally subsided, Arthur punished Leon by making him help.

"I'll get you the same again. You lot don't deserve better," Arthur said.

"You're a star. Cheers," Galahad said.

"No more for me," Geraint said, holding his head in his hands.

"Don't be a bloody cheapskate this time," Gwaine warned.

"I'll come with you," Kay said, standing up. Arthur prodded at Perceval until he could slide out of the booth, and pointedly stared at Kay until Kay sat back down. "I'll stay here. Under protest."

"That you will," Arthur said, and headed to the bar.

He was leaning against the bar's railing, a boot on the scuffed footrest, when he spotted that scruff of black hair and the stretch of white across strong shoulders. Arthur craned his neck to see past the two heavy-world mercenaries, admiring the line of the man's spine, the glimpse of skin where the shirt wasn't long enough to tuck into his trousers.

He thought there was something unusually familiar about the man's arse.

Arthur pushed away and squeezed through the crowd. The man was talking with someone that Arthur couldn't see -- from the way that the man was throwing up an arm in compounding gestures, it was an intense, animated conversation. 

Up close, Arthur decided that there wasn't _something_ familiar about the man's arse. There was a definite familiarity. He needed only to glance at the knee-high boots and see the split-toe to know for certain. Arthur paused, tilting his head in consideration.

His startled pleasure at seeing Merlin faded to annoyance, but the irritation at having been so easily found and tracked -- and _this quickly_ \-- evaporated when he considered how he could best reap the benefits of the situation.

He saw Merlin's head turn and knew he had to react quickly. Merlin was too sensitive by half, always preternaturally aware of his surroundings, even knowing to the millimetre where Arthur was in respect to Merlin's own position, and Arthur doubted that spending weeks at the Shadow homeworld had softened him even a little bit. And a noisy bar? It didn't even rate on the distraction scale, not for a man like Merlin.

Arthur moved up behind Merlin. He could see Merlin tense up -- as much in preparation for a fight as to keep himself from fighting. He put his hands on Merlin's hips, his fingers sliding beneath that too-small shirt and dipping below the waistband. He felt, and avoided, the knives tucked beneath the fabric of Merlin's trousers, grateful for all those lessons Merlin had given on how to undress him and emerge with every limb intact.

"Tell me," Arthur said, his lips close to Merlin's ear, "What's a pretty boy like you doing in a scummy place like this?"

Merlin turned his head; his cheek brushed against Arthur's, rough with scruff. He must have rushed away from the Shadowplanet without packing essentials if he was in need of a shave. "Oh, my husband took a runner, and I'm a bit lonely. I thought one of the blokes in here might want to keep me company tonight."

Arthur's fingers tightened around Merlin's waist in reflex, and whatever sound he'd been about to make -- it was most assuredly _not_ a possessive snarl, but a close cousin -- was interrupted at Will's very annoyed groan.

"I _told_ you, Ems. You should've worn my jacket. He wouldn't have spotted you right quick if you were at least a bit covered up," Will said, shaking his head. He pointed at Merlin, a drink in his hand. "You'd think you were a brand-new wanna-be killer and not the most dreaded assassin in the universe, the way you're acting now."

"Shut it, Will. I didn't have time to prepare," Merlin said, elbowing Arthur lightly. " _Someone_ decided to take off without telling me. I had to find out from the _Castellan_. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have to admit that I had no idea where you were, who you were with, or where you were going?"

"About the same as it is to say that I've no idea where the Consort has gone _now_ , but that he must be off doing important business that doesn't involve relapsing into his old habits and killing for money," Arthur groused, biting Merlin's earlobe.

Merlin tilted his head away with a growl, but Arthur heard a capitulating sigh -- however stifled -- and felt Merlin relax minutely.

"Fair enough," Merlin said. "We're both wankers, and for once, me more than you."

"You came after me, pet," Arthur said, turning Merlin around. He swept his arm out in a magnanimous gesture and said, "All's forgiven."

"Sickening. That's all I have to say. _Sickening_. Bad enough that I have to deal with Ems moping all the bloody time when we're on the homeworld. Do you know how creepy it is when the shadows reflect his mood? Gloomier than usual and no respect for personal space _whatsoever_. And if there's anything I've learned, it's that when the Shadowlord has a meltdown, I had better have the ship ready to track your idiot arse. Shades and stars, men. I don't need to be subjected to your disgusting lovey-dovey antics, too." Will pointed through the crowd. "Your boys over that way?"

"My boys are over that way," Arthur said, barely paying attention to Will's grumpy huff or as they were jostled when Will shoved them out of his way. He grinned at Merlin and repeated the one important detail that he'd picked out of Will's rant. "What's this I heard? You had a meltdown?"

"I… I may have been somewhat upset when you didn't answer your comms," Merlin admitted. The colour of embarrassment in his cheeks was chased away by the very stern look he turned to Arthur now. "What were you _thinking_? Were you even thinking? Arthur, the Guard is there for a reason. They can't very well protect you if dodge them, and _no_ , as much as I like and respect Kay, given the current state of affairs, Kay is not enough."

"You're gorgeous when you're stroppy." Arthur's fingers latched onto one of Merlin's belts, but any attempt to tug him closer was swatted away. "And you're gorgeous when you're laid bare on our bed, but you're bloody irresistible when you hide the shadow-marks and wear civilian clothes. You know my weakness is when you try to blend in with the rest of the universe --"

Arthur got a good look at the logo silk-screened on the front of Merlin's shirt, and blinked.

"What is -- What _are_ you wearing?"

Merlin flinched and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the lettering. A few nearby patrons, startled by Arthur's sudden outburst, twisted around to take a look. Merlin rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as if there might be some salvation hiding in the rusty bulkheads, somewhere behind the ratty sports team banners and the mood lighting that was garish even back when it was in fashion, and something of the shadows escaped his precious control, reappearing in tattooed lines on his bare arms.

"Your slip is showing, pet," Arthur warned, coming in close to give Merlin shelter from curious eyes. The House of Shadows had their secrets, and the shadow-marks were one of them, never -- or rather, rarely -- seen by outsiders. It hardly mattered, not when secrecy meant that the shadow-marks would never be recognized for what they were unless someone happened to watch them swirl and shift on Merlin's skin. Arthur was possessive of them; he didn't want to share any part of Merlin.

As he stroked Merlin's arms -- simultaneously trying to soothe the spooked Shadowlord into letting him see the lettering on his shirt again -- the shadows retreated slowly and surely, tucking beneath the short sleeves. Merlin huffed.

"Will didn't have any clean shirts. He doesn't do his laundry unless he absolutely has to, and he'd rather buy new clothes than have to spend any time in a Laundromat. He says that the last time he went on port, he got robbed blind by a bird he shagged against a dryer and they nearly swiped his ship from under him," Merlin complained. "The point being, he doesn't have a _closet_. He has a _cargo hold_ , and the last time I went looking for a shirt, I swear the heap moved. It _moved_."

Arthur laughed.

Merlin plucked at the fabric of his shirt, which had the effect of tightening the already-stretched material over his chest. "I picked this up at the tourist shop at the last station."

Arthur took Merlin's hands and spread them out to get a better view. He grinned. "And they didn't have anything more suitable for someone of your rank?"

"It was a _tourist_ shop, not a _salon de haute couture_. And how could I resist? You started a fad. Quit touching me. I'm still mad at you." Merlin jerked his hands out of Arthur's grasp; Arthur let him go, reaching for the shirt instead, smoothing out the big, bold letters with his fingertips.

The logo was the Jolly Rogers skull and crossbones, emblazoned in the same elaborate stylized design as the Imperial Dragon, and the slogan was in big, bold, black script: _Kiss me, I'm a Pirate_.

Arthur _might_ have been a little drunk on his wedding night. He _might_ have been a little frustrated by all the members of the court -- both Imperial and Pirate -- who had monopolized Merlin's time and kept getting in Arthur's path when Arthur wanted nothing more but to drag Merlin off to their marriage bed. He _might_ have climbed on top of a table, swung his wine goblet around with a little too much flair -- the Lord of the House of the Golden Flame had not been impressed by the wine stains on his new robe. 

Arthur _might_ have delivered an entirely heartfelt and completely over-the-top speech detailing just how much that he loved Merlin. When Merlin had reached for him, trying to get him to climb down, Arthur _might_ have grabbed Merlin in complete disregard for proper Imperial court decorum and said, " _Kiss me, damn you. I'm a Pirate,_ " before swooping in for a kiss of his own.

It _might_ have been picked up by the few paparazzi who had been permitted to attend the Imperial Wedding -- a wedding that had been completely unnecessary considering that they'd wed on the Pendragon homeworld while out at sea just as the sun set, but no one needed to know that. Both that declaration and the kiss _might_ have been broadcasted all across the Empire.

The shirt was just the start.

The Empire wasn't quite ready to cast away its precious fashion sense, but there were hints of the Pirate style was creeping in, bit by bit, like an insidious little bugger crawling beneath the skin and latching on. Children's toys now included cheap costumes with pirate patches with sweeping capes and feathered hats and plasticized cutlasses and imitation blasters. There were sea-faring ships and space-faring ships, each with their own unique versions of cannons and planks and sails. Even the vid-stars were getting in on it, taking the primary roles in new Pirate dramas.

If only the Pirates had thought to trademark their own looks and culture beforehand. They would have reaped the profits now.

There was no point in crying over spilt milk, not when Merlin was standing in front of Arthur with an irresistible offer silk-screened across his chest.

"Do you know what I'm thinking right now?" Arthur asked, letting his hands linger on Merlin's chest.

"Is it something that will get you to the ship and back to Albion with a minimum of fuss?" Merlin asked. His voice was a flat monotone, full of warning, but Arthur wasn't fooled. He saw the twitch of Merlin's lips, fighting against an invading smile.

"If by _something_ you mean yourself, spread wantonly on a bed, wearing nothing but that shirt rucked up to your armpits, then, yes, _yes_ , that will get me to the ship with a minimum of fuss," Arthur said, biting his lower lip at the flare of desire that the mere mental image caused. "I can't promise you anything in regard to the amount of fuss that I'll cause once I have you in that… compromising position."

Merlin grit his teeth, his lips in a tight smile -- obviously, he was losing the fight against Arthur's charms -- and the tips of his ears burned red. His eyes sparkled, and he bowed mockingly. "As you wish, my liege."

"But first, one more drink," Arthur said, turning on his heels. He caught a glimpse of Merlin rolling his eyes before heading to the bar, Merlin catching up easily, his fingers twining in his.

Merlin's presence was greeted with little surprise by the crew, particularly since Will had made himself suspiciously comfortable, sitting so close to Lucan that they might as well be in each other's laps, and the round of ale was imbibed with all the slowness of a Pirate crew in no hurry to get anywhere. Eventually, Gwaine gave up trying to kiss Merlin and Galahad ran out of jokes to make at the shirt's expense and concentrated their mocking on Elyan and his rumoured romance with Mithian.

Any mirth they might have squeezed out of that was ruined at the sound of distant gunfire, the pitch distinguishable as blaster rifles. A few people ran into the tavern, ducking their heads down, and the gossip spread quickly. The Legion was searching the space station from top to bottom.

"Strange," Arthur remarked, sipping the dregs of his ale. He studied what was left and decided that stretching out their stay, as pleasant as it was, for another fifteen minutes was outweighed by ensuring his crew were aboard _Excalibur_ and out of port before the Legion found them. "I wonder what they're looking for."

"Quite possible that they're upset that someone bought the last one of _those_ ," Perceval said, nodding toward Merlin's shirt.

Merlin groaned. "That joke was old two hours ago."

"I don't know," Geraint said, looking a little less worse for wear now that Gwaine had poured water down his throat to sober him up. "It's the Legion. They might be using those shirts to dress up their combat practice dummies."

"Plausible," Will said, nodding slowly. "You could've taken a different shirt, you know."

"There were no other shirts," Merlin snapped.

"What are you talking about? The shop had miles of shirts. If anything, you were spoilt for choice --"

"Shut up, Will," Merlin said, his voice low.

Arthur gave Merlin a long look. "Oh, pet. You don't need to be embarrassed. Admit it. You _wanted_ the shirt --"

Merlin huffed a breath. "If the Legion's here because they want the bloody shirt, I will happily give it to them, but the lot of you need to get off your arses and help me get Arthur on _Excalibur_ before they get here." 

"You're not giving anyone that shirt," Arthur said, chasing after that tantalizing glimpse of skin between shirt and belt. He slid out of the booth and gave the hem a meaningful tug. "I have prior claim to that shirt."

"Will you shut it and move your royal arse?" Kay snarled, giving Arthur a rough shove.

Leon, Kay, and Merlin herded the crew out of the _Rising Sun_ , though Will somehow managed to take the lead and Kay was somewhere to the rear, loitering on their tails. Leon was a step behind Arthur, and Merlin stuck as close to the bulkhead shadows as he could.

Arthur frowned. "You all right, pet?"

It wasn't often that Merlin went uncloaked, leaving his long, skirted coat and heavy cowl behind. Arthur wasn't certain if it was a side effect of using his shadow-magic more and more, or if the light simply hurt Merlin if he was exposed to it for too long. The _Rising Sun_ 's mood lighting was both tragic and gloomy, at a comfortable level for the Shadowlord, but the rest of the space station was stark and bright, the metal paneling rendered sterile with fluorescent blue light.

Merlin nodded distractedly.

Arthur caught a glimpse of the shadow-marks making an appearance on Merlin's skin again, and while he had no complaints, he wasn't so sure that Merlin would want the crew to see them. Arthur knew where the _Excalibur_ was berthed and which route was the most direct; he nudged Merlin down a different corridor.

"This way, boys," Arthur said cheerfully, taking over the lead. In a lower voice, he said, "It's darker here."

"Not really that much help with the Legion about," Merlin muttered, but there was relief in his expression. The shadows relaxed, and the tension that had been building in his shoulders eased.

"This is the long way around," Geraint pointed out. "The broadway should be clear --"

"Hush," Galahad said, patting Geraint's shoulder. "I know you pilots want to get to the destination as quickly as possible, but for once, hush up and enjoy the view."

They passed a large rubbish pile, the acrid smell burning their nostrils.

"Fantastic view," Geraint said.

"You don't know the half of it," Galahad said, undeterred. "There's an even bigger pile up ahead. It was rated number one on the traveller's guide, voted _Must See_."

"Hush," Merlin said.

"No, I'm serious, it really was in the --"

Arthur made a cutting gesture. If Merlin wanted silence, there was a reason for it. Galahad fell silent immediately and the others drew their weapons, holding them not quite at the ready but loose in their hands, thumbs on the power settings. Arthur watched as Merlin tilted his head, as if hearing something none of the others could, and Arthur wouldn't be surprised if that were true, given the things he had seen whenever Merlin pulled him into the shadows. 

Merlin slowed down, stopped, and changed direction, leading them away from the spaceport. The corridor was deserted, boxes stacked up taller than a man on either side, narrowing the navigable space. The crew dropped out of its random stagger and tightened up into two columns, their wariness growing the deeper they went and the darker it became.

"Pet?" Arthur asked, acutely aware of the thick shadows around them.

"I heard something," Merlin said, coming to a stop at a dead-end. A few metres away was nothing but the station -- bulkhead and bracers -- the corner completely swathed in shadow that not even the blinking fluorescent blue light behind them could pierce. He came to the very edge of the thickest of the shade and crouched down.

He held out a hand, palm-up.

"What is it?" Will asked.

"You don't hear it?" Merlin asked.

"No, I --" Will shook his head and paused. He crept closer, stopping behind Arthur, and inclined his head. Will's eyes narrowed in concentration and said, "Sounds like…crying?"

"Is someone there?" Arthur asked.

"I don't hear anything," Lucan said, frowning.

"Shadows," Will said, pointing.

Will caught Arthur's arm, pulling him back before he could come closer to Merlin. Will's eyes were wide. "I just heard _can you help me_."

"Shadows talking," Elyan said, shaking his head. "That's a new one. I'll have to reconfigure the sound pickup when we get back to the ship --"

"Hush," Merlin said, shooting a dark look over his shoulder. His features softened when he turned to the shadows again. "I won't hurt you. We won't hurt you."

Seconds passed. Minutes. Merlin's hand never wavered where it was held out, fingertips a fraction of a millimetre shy of crossing some unseen barrier between shadow and _shadow_. Arthur exchanged glances with Will, and Will could only shake his head helplessly. Will might be House of Shadow, but his bloodline wasn't strong in the shade, and he could only do a bare few things in comparison to Merlin's endless bag of tricks.

The crew grew more uneasy the more time passed by. Perceval and Gwaine moved to the rear, bringing the heavier guns where they would be best used to defend them. Lucan and Galahad went with them, and Leon lingered in the middle, moving between checking on Merlin and Arthur and ensuring that no one had come across them.

"I can hear someone coming," Lucan said, closing his eyes and plugging one ear to listen better. Two… no. Six. Seven people. Walking heavily, definitely armoured."

"Definitely armed, then," Galahad said, checking his blaster.

"When you asked me to chase after your idiot husband, you didn't say anything about getting in another fight with the bloody Legion. Merlin? Can we hurry this along?" Will asked. 

" _Merlin_?" someone asked, the voice disembodied, ephemeral. It was young, afraid, innocent. " _Merlin? Is it. Is that you?_ "

"It's me," Merlin said, glancing up at Arthur before studying the shadows again. Arthur had no idea what Merlin was seeing, but he must be able to see as clear as day, because his attention was completely focused. "I'm Merlin."

" _They don't like you._ "

"No, they don't," Merlin agreed, even though none of them were entirely sure who "they" were.

" _They're afraid of you_."

"I should hope so," Merlin said. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"Bloody Hell, mate. You sound like a Pirate," Geraint said. "Is Arthur rubbing off on you?"

"For one definition of _rubbing off_ ," Gwaine said, from somewhere behind Elyan. 

There was the strike of skin on skin, and Arthur wondered which one of the crew gave Gwaine the slap he deserved.

"Ouch," Gwaine said.

" _Arthur? King Arthur?_ " There was a little squeak behind the question that sounded like a little gasp of surprise, a glimmer of hope.

"That's me," Arthur said, crouching down next to Merlin.

A shadow curled out of the corner, a tiny, clever tendril. It curled as if hesitant, patting at the dirty deck, daring to come close but afraid to get too near.

" _Do you mean it? You won't hurt me?_ "

"I mean it," Merlin said, his voice gentle -- far more gentle than Arthur had ever heard from him. If it had been impossible to love him more before, it was even more difficult now, to know what Merlin would sound like with their future children. "And whoever made you afraid, I promise that I'll protect you from them. I won't let them hurt you."

" _You won't let them take me away?_ "

"No," Arthur said, reaching out to touch the twitchy shadow, letting it curl around his fingers, around his hand. "We won't let them take you anywhere except wherever you want to go."

"Can you come out?" Merlin asked. 

Arthur could hear the footsteps now, coming closer, ever closer. They couldn't be far. If Arthur could hear them, then Merlin could, too. If Merlin was asking for the person in the shadow to emerge, they were nearly out of time.

They didn't have to wait long. The shadows eased and faded until the pitch black was nothing but a fuzzy grey, the distant edge and crease of warped wall and bulkheads slowly coming into view. A delicate hand and a narrow wrist and a skinny arm emerged first, reaching out to take Merlin's fingers and holding on tight before coming out all the way.

It was a little girl with big blue eyes red-rimmed with tears, thin and sharp-boned beneath a formless grey shift and fleece trousers rolled up at the ankles, her shoes nothing more but flimsy canvas slippers that were barely holding together. Her hair was almost silvery-white where it wasn't knotted and gnarled and smeared with dirt. She was pale, her skin sickly under fluorescent blue lights that lengthened the hollow and shadows at her temples and cheekbones.

Arthur covered his mouth with his free hand to keep the growl from escaping. She couldn't be older than five or six system-years.

The tiny tendril of shadow wrapped around Arthur's other hand, twining and winding around his fingers and palm and wrist.

"What's your name, little shadow?" Merlin asked. His voice was rough with suppressed anger; Arthur knew that tone far too well. He felt some of that same anger, too, but he was too furious to speak. Who would have _dared_ do this to a child?

The little girl bit her lower lip. Her eyes dropped down. But she inched closer to Merlin, shy, her movements jerky and hiccupy, as if she wanted to jump at Merlin and was holding herself back at the same time.

"Aithusa," she whispered.

"Arthur --" 

Arthur heard the simultaneous click- _click_ -click of disengaged safeties and the low, low hum of charging blasters. The approaching footsteps had come to a stop.

He stood up, the shadow tendril tightening around his wrist, and shared a glance with a concerned Leon. 

There were two Triad of White Legion in the corridor, flanking both sides of the bulkheads lined with boxes. Their armour wasn't so white anymore, battered with indentations and scorched with battle scars, patterned with dirt and grease in grimy sections to resemble camouflage. Each and every one stood with weapons drawn, the stock of their rifles buttressed against their shoulders.

A man stood at the head of the two soldier columns. He wore a draping hip-length jacket over black trousers and a pale, elaborately embroidered vest. His tunic was tight around his torso and was rigid like a preacher's collar around the throat. 

He was older than Arthur, his face streaked with wrinkles of concentration and angry furrow. His black hair was slicked back, his jaw was rough with scruff, his mouth set in an unhappy downturn.

"That belongs to me," he said, tucking his thumbs in his belt. "Hand it over, and no one gets hurt."

Arthur moved through his crewmen and put a hand on Perceval's shoulder. He made a show of glancing from side to side. "Sorry, mate. No idea what you're talking about."

"That's Councillor Borden," Kay said.

"Julius Borden?" Arthur asked. His eyebrows rose. "Twenty Sterling on his head, if I recall correctly, and only so much because he's stolen Imperial property. What else has he taken now?"

"The child. It's mine," Borden said. He gestured at one of his men. The soldiers shifted his rifle and shot one of the boxes piled high against the wall. The box blew to bits, shards and sawdust scattering.

Arthur looked at the debris on his shoulder and brushed it off. The baby shadow tendril, still curled around his wrist, captured a splinter and tossed it with a vehement heave.

It was _adorable_ , and Arthur couldn't help but smile.

"I'm thinking... no," Arthur said. "Maybe she was your property, _once_. But property found is property repossessed, isn't it, boys?"

"It's the Pirate way," Gwaine said. 

"You'll fight for _that_?" Borden scoffed. He scanned them all with a slimy, disdainful air. "Against _us_?"

"Against _them_ , more like," Kay said, waving a hand toward the Legion soldiers. "You don't much like getting your hands dirty, from what I remember, Councillor. Happier to send your dogs to fetch and carry, aren't you?"

Borden gave them all a hard look, this time slow and evaluating. He spent the most time on Kay, as if trying to place him, and when that failed, he turned to Arthur.

"Oh. I see," Borden said. "I would say it's a honour to be in your presence, your _Imperial Majesty_ , but that would be a lie."

"Wow. These Conglomerate drones, they're a little slow on the uptake, aren't they?" Geraint asked.

"Not like we haven't been broadcasting all across the bloody Empire or anything like that," Elyan said, irritated.

"Should look into hacking those company nodes," Lance suggested. "Hijack their comms, make sure they haven't any other choice but to watch the Captain's pretty face on the holo."

"I like that idea," Arthur said, giving Lance an approving nod. "You'll get on that once we're back?"

"It would be a pleasure. Shouldn't take me long. Conglomerate systems are shite and prone to viruses," Lance said, flashing a big grin.

"Speaking of slow," Borden said, his mouth tugged into an amused grin, "None of you seem to realize that you are _outclassed_. Give me the child, and I might let most of you live."

He drew a pistol, lazily drawing a bead on Arthur.

Arthur crossed his arms.

The pulse blast came at an impossible angle from somewhere behind and below Arthur's left hip, shooting the pistol out of Borden's hand. Borden's cry of pain was a strangled shout for retaliation. 

The Legion soldiers shifted their weapons, trying to track a target in the growing darkness surrounding them, but they didn't fire. If anything, they looked around, uncertain. Their guns wavered, and one Legion soldier took a step back.

Galahad tsked. "Didn't you know? Never pull a weapon on the Emperor. The Consort doesn't like that."

"At all," Will said, sounding smug. "So, if you like, try it again. I like to see the aftermath. Bit of a sadist, me."

Merlin came up from the rear of the group, one arm outstretched, gun in hand. He held Aithusa against his side, balanced on his hip. Her head was buried in the crook of Merlin's neck, her arms and legs around him, holding on tight. 

Arthur thought it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Merlin always had certain look on his face when he was protecting Arthur -- determined, merciless, deadly. Now, there was a special quality to it -- sharp and _fierce_. Arthur couldn't help it. He wanted to shove Merlin against the wall and shag him senseless.

Instead, Arthur helped himself to the second gun from Merlin's belt and tabled the shagging for later.

"Here's how it's going to work, gentlemen --" Arthur glanced over the Legion soldiers and their genderless armour, and added for good measure, "-- and gentleladies. You will lower your weapons. You will stand aside. And me and my men, we're going to our ships, and you will not bother us.

"Ever again.

"Instead, you're going to thank your lucky stars. Because this, here? This is going to be a story you'll tell your grandchildren someday -- the one where you met the Shadowlord and the Pirate King and they didn't only let you live, but they gave you a choice."

Arthur glanced at Merlin. He knew -- indirectly, because a he was the Emperor and wasn't supposed to know certain things, not officially -- how much work Merlin had done to rehabilitate the Legion prospects that the Conglomerate had left behind. Mordred, who had been the most fearsome Elite among the White Legion, had become a studious and penitent initiate, healing from whatever it was that the Conglomerate had done to him. And, although Merlin had taken great pains not to kill the Legion soldiers encountered after the war unless he had no other option, in the end, the offer that Arthur was about to make was Merlin's alone to give.

Merlin seemed to know that, because he nodded.

" _Amnesty_ ," Arthur said. He paused. "Any and every man and woman of the White Legion will be granted amnesty if they swear their loyalty to the Empire the way the Shadow Guard did in days of old. They will be allowed to return home to the Shadow world. On this, you have my word."

"And mine," Merlin said.

Borden's laugh was chilling and cold. He cradled his injured hand under his armpit and pointed at Arthur. "Kill them. Kill them _both_. The Conglomerate will richly reward the one who --"

"Oh, shut your gob," Arthur said, waving the blaster at Borden. "Come on, boys. There's something else I'd rather be doing right now. It involves giving a pretty little girl a bath, tucking her in a nice warm bed, and arguing with the Consort over which one of us gets to be called _papa_."

Merlin huffed a laugh. "Me, of course." 

Aithusa turned her head to look at Arthur, a small, shy smile on her lips, and reached for him. Her fingers tangled in the fur collar, and Arthur's heart melted.

"We'll see, pet," Arthur said.

"I call favourite uncle," Will said.

"I challenge," Gwaine protested.

"Shall we?" Arthur asked. 

He didn't wait for an answer, but strode purposefully forward, Merlin in step beside him. One by one, the Legion soldiers checked their weapons and moved aside. Borden ground in his heels, but Perceval picked him up and left him on one of the boxes lined up against the bulkheads, out of the way.

There was a long, stunned silence behind them, tempered moments later by an angry screech and a crackle of comms. Borden shrieked something incomprehensible, and there was a clank of movement behind them.

At the end of the corridor, Arthur shared a look with Merlin. It had been too much to hope for -- that it was going to be easy.

"We were so close," Arthur said.

"Losing your touch, love," Merlin said. He gave Arthur a meaningful look full of _now, it's my turn_ before glancing at the others. "Get them to the ship. I'll hold the Legion off."

"Yes, m'Lord," Kay said, because he was the only one trained to acknowledge an order, while the rest of the crew rolled their eyes, as if it weren't already obvious what they needed to do.

Arthur took Aithusa's weight easily, despairing of how light she was, and put the second blaster in Merlin's free hand. The shadows were already curling around Merlin's body, and Aithusa's eyes were wide with awe.

Arthur caught Merlin's shirtsleeve before the shadows enfolded him completely, and said, "I want to see that shirt in one piece."

Merlin's lips quirked under the veil swirling around his face, his eyes suddenly golden-bright. "Of course, my Liege."

And with that he was gone, a wave of shadow crashing all around him, weapons charged and shooting to give them cover to get away.

 

  


 


	5. Chapter 5

  


**_Shadowlord and Pirate King_** is a Merlin alternate universe fanfiction set in the far future in a different galaxy that falls outside the capability of current human technology to ever reach, never mind to _imagine_ ever reaching. In this space opera genre, several worldbuilding rules had to be set in place, and first and foremost among those rules is how does space even work?

Worldbuilding for a far-future space opera requires extrapolation based on current knowledge, science fiction speculation and anthropological evolution of society and culture. Maybe a little bit of hand-waving is used, but in order for the hand-waving to be believable, it has to be based on some sort of _fact_.

 

CONCEPT

But every story has to start somewhere, and **_SL &PK_** begins here:

  * First with an end concept with the where and when that the story will be told, which is an universe where both pirates and ninjas exist. That's already a tall order, because the two don't necessarily go together, but damn it, I'll make it work.


  * A triggering beginning that gets the worldbuilding where it needs to be, and in this case, eventually, the population of the human race will be too large to be comfortably sustained by the planet Earth, and there will be those who will seek to discover new planets out among the stars in the same way that ancient explorers reached out across the seas and settled in the New World. 



The first bullet point is a little difficult to address directly, so I'll skip to the second and start there.

 

THE BEGINNING: SPACE TRAVEL

For any kind of colonization to happen, the human race needs to travel through space. That's like a given.

Space travel, though. That's a different monster. The human race has barely scratched the surface of traveling in space, but both fictional speculation and hard science exists from which to base a method, or several methods, of space travel. Any mode of transportation, though, has to consider several pitfalls about the realities of space:

  * Space is _still_ expanding, as explained by the Big Bang theory, and there are many, many galaxies being birthed and formed. Because the rate of expansion exceeds the ability of the far future technology to catch, the exploring navigators of spacefaring ships will likely never run the risk of dropping off the face of the universe the way that the seafaring sailors of yore once thought they would one day do.


  * Space is not static. For all that it appears that the universe is revolving around the planet when one looks up at the stars in the dark of night, the truth is, _everything_ is moving. Earth rotates along its axis. It orbits the sun. That's physics 101. But the trippy thing is, the _sun_ also revolves around the galaxy. And the galaxy is spinning, too -- not just on itself, but probably along an orbital path. Although, on a broad scale, the position of a heavenly body won't change much during a person's lifetime, consider that the visible light from the stars comes to us from several million light-years ago, and that the stars are actually occupying a completely different quadrant of space now -- and the light hasn't reached Earth yet. 



What this means is that, while destination coordinates can be predicted, and be accurate, within its own galaxy and between solar systems within that galaxy, travelling between galaxies becomes more and more difficult the further away the destination. There are no fixed points in space, and navigation becomes as much instinct and guesswork as mathematics and star maps. Coordinates, therefore, have to constantly _evolve_ and be recalculated.

Unless.

 

**Space Coordinates**

In **_PL &SK_**, every space-faring civilization has developed their own system for establishing space coordinates, but in its simplest form, within a galaxy, coordinates are set based on a single, relatively-fixed point -- the star of a solar system or the centre of that galaxy, for example. Between galaxies, travel coordinates are calculated based on the destination coordinates and arrival coordinates. In its simplest term, galactic travel is the equivalent to pulling out the street map and driving across town.

At its most complicated, particularly between very distant points, the coordinates are constantly recalculated based on relative position to the nearest _known_ galactic centre on the star charts. In Earth terms, it's the difference between a starting point of London and a destination of Lima, Peru, and a starting point of London, and a destination of Hong Kong, China.

There's also no traveling in a straight line -- for all that space looks to be largely empty, there's a surprising amount of _stuff_ out there: the debris tail of a comet, an asteroid field, planetoids, planets, gas giants, dwarf stars, red stars. Minor course adjustments are made not on the original coordinates, but based on the ship's relative position to the big flaming ball of gas that's inconveniently in the way -- the equivalent of "how about you take this detour so that we don't fall in the construction pit" before the GPS kicks in to correct the course to the original destination.

 

**Distances in Space**

Getting from point A to point B, though, is part of the problem. And this is why:

  * Space is vast. It's very, very vast. The distance from one end to another of the Milky Way galaxy -- _our_ galaxy -- is roughly 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 km. 



That's a lot of zeroes. To simplify distances in space, astronomers and physicists came up with units of measure that are representative of those large numbers -- otherwise, giving directions would take nearly as long to give as to get there.

 **Light-year (lt-yr)** : At present, the fastest known and measurable object is a photon -- a particle of light -- and a light-year is how long it would take for that particle of light to travel a known distance.

  * It would take a ship, travelling at the speed of light, 100,000 lt-yrs to cross the full diameter of the Milky Way. 



**Parsec (Pc)** : Physics (and also Wikipedia) defines the parsec as a distance corresponding to a parallax of one arc second -- or, if you skip through the eye-crossing description of what _that_ means, it's essentially the distance between two astronomical objects equivalent to an arcsecond (a tiny fraction of a degree), taking into account the natural mobility/movement of those astronomical objects. In more plain terms, one parsec is equal to approximately 3.26 lt-yrs, or 30.9 trillion kilometres. The parsec is also used to define bigger numbers -- i.e., the kilo-parsec (kPc) and the million-parsec (MPc)

  * It would take a ship, travelling at the speed of light, 3000 pc (or 3kpc) to cross the full diameter of the Milky Way. 



Where looking at distance in terms of kilometres or a light-year is pretty daunting, a parsec, in comparison, is not as bad. "Yeah? It'll only take 3 kPc to get there? That's totally do-able."

 **Astronomical Unit (AU)** : Not to be confused with _alternate universe_ , the AU is an unit of length equivalent to the distance between the sun and the Earth. It's also a less commonly used unit of measure in physics.

In **_PL &SK_**, the AU is never used. It's based on a distance calculated between a sun and a planet that most of the people have never heard of, never mind seen. However, both the lt-yr and the pc are used to varying degrees, even if the actual numerological value aren't actually given, and newer units of measure are used (though not defined) to describe much larger distances. The _origin_ and _meaning_ of the light-year and the parsec are not commonly known -- in the same way that we throw around "yardstick" and "mile" without knowing the equivalent conversion in metric, or that we know the measure of shoe size, but not that it originated from the "barleycorn" -- whatever that is.

 

**"Are we there yet?"**

How long will it take to get there? Well. It'll all depend on the rate of speed.

To give an idea of relative distance, the nearest galaxy is the Andromeda Galaxy. It's 0.79 MPc away. Travelling at the speed of light, it would take _two million years_ to get there. If a ship, travelling at the current technological capability -- which is nowhere near at the speed of light -- decided to swing by Andromeda for a quick visit, maybe a chat over some tea and coffee cake, they'd have to leave early. It would take _4.3 trillion years_ to get there, and that's longer than the universe has even been around.

Obviously, travelling at the speed of light would be _ideal_. But physics say that it's impossible for anything with mass to travel at the speed of light, because it would get more massive as it increased speed, and by the time it did reach the speed of light, it would be ridiculously massive and require an unspeakable amount of energy in order to not only reach, but _maintain_ that speed. Using rockets to achieve that speed isn't an option. There are no energy sources powerful enough or infinite enough to push a perpetually-increasing mass to light speed for any amount of time -- that's _if_ one is even able to break out of light-speed once it has been reached.

This is a worldbuilding problem that nevertheless finds its solution in physics, because there is no such thing as _impossible_ in science -- there is only a degree of improbability. The _theory_ and the _mathematics_ already exists to support warp drive technology, even if there is still the problem of achieving the right power source to power it.

A fair assumption is that this power source _will_ be discovered. It'll take time. History has shown us that the human race, as a whole, are innovators. In times of crisis, _we will find a way_.

 

**Initial Stages of Space Travel (AKA SPACE TRAVEL PART ONE)**

In the **_SL &PK_** universe, there was such a crisis -- overpopulation, limited resources, pollution, a disastrously changing climate, earthquakes, loss of landmass. While some might have been waging war to protect what they had and to liberate what had been hoarded, others were looking to the stars for escape, respite and salvation. The problem of the power source for the warp drives had been resolved, though it did take some time to find a _stable_ power source that didn't immediately deplete or explode. And since space was no longer the domain of governments worldwide, private citizens banded together, buying "seats" on colony ships that didn't exist and wouldn't, not until there was enough money held in trust to build them. Some private citizens were rich enough to manage the construction themselves. Maybe governments funded them in part as long as the government was taken along when the ships were ready. However that the Colony Ships were funded, they took a long time to build. There were problems, of course, namely:

  * Shortage of resources;
  * Warfare conscripting workers and metals; 
  * Sabotage; 
  * Political unrest; 
  * Theft; 
  * Malfunctioning equipment; 
  * Terrorist acts; 
  * Everyone wanting a seat after the fact. 



It didn't stop there, of course. And some ships were completed _enough_ , taking off well ahead of their announced scheduled date in order to avoid any additional delay. 

These ships were the Mark Is, the very first ships with warp-capable engines. These were the very first faster-than-light (FTL) drives. They might have been able to go 0.1 times faster than light, but they were well away, using coordinates based on star charts and the raw possibility of earth-class planets.

The Colony Ships that followed were able to go faster than that -- twice again to four times the speed of light, and just like the Mark Is, the Mark IIs and IIIs took off for parts unknown.

They were never heard of again.

The Mark IVs, Vs, and VIs were smarter. Multiple Colony Ships banded together and did a full scientific survey of the star charts. They understood that the star charts were limited to the detectable galaxies, to planets that were large enough to be observed, and that the presence of habitable planets were scientific guesswork, at best.

They picked a direction, going not toward the old, established galaxies, but ever _onward_ , seeking out the universe where it was expanding and young solar systems were formed. However fast that the ships were able to travel now, they weren't fast enough. It was going to be a long, long journey with no set destination and no promise of ever finding a new place to live. The Colony Ships became _Generation Ships_.

  * Where it took months upon months of travel to find land based on nothing more than the hope that it was there, it will take decades, centuries, even millennia for a ship using currently- _theorized_ technology to reach a galaxy with habitable planets to colonize.



 

**Artificial Gravity**

I'm going to go sideways here and handwave the issue of artificial gravity and say that it was integrated in the ship's design. In any case, there are already very plausible ways of doing so -- we just haven't built them yet. Googling _artificial gravity in space_ gives plenty of examples of how it could be done. It's simply easier to mimic gravity than it is to break the light barrier. It doesn't mean that it was perfect in the early days. It varied. The generator died. To preserve power for the engines or other more important sections of the ship, like, oh, maintaining the ratios of a breathable atmosphere, there were probably even brown-outs affecting gravity -- "Okay, people, this is your Captain speaking. Quadrant 4, 7 and 12 will be without gravity for four hours in five minutes. Secure everything that needs securing."

 

**Calling Home**

It's all good, though, because there's still radio, right? They'll be able to communicate with Earth. **Wrong**.

There's an interesting thing about space -- photons travel at a fixed speed. Other physical particles do, too. As does every type of radiation on the known spectrum, and this includes every kind of transmission, particularly radio and communications. Humanity may have resolved the issue of FTL travel with the creation of warp drives, but it didn't take very long at all for either the Colony or the Generation Ships to get out of communication range with the planet Earth. Pretty soon, the only communication that could be managed was between ships travelling together at the same speed and along the same course.

To be honest, the majority of the people on the Generation Ships could care less about contacting Earth. What would Earth do if the Ships were calling for help? Launch a rescue mission? They'll get right on that -- after they build a ship capable of catching up to them, because the wars that are still waging make that impossible. 

They could keep current with the news -- with what was going on back on Earth. Face it. Human beings are information and gossip junkies. But why get stressed over things that they no longer have control over? When the biggest news is when the botanists have fixed the hydroponics plant in Bay 12 and the chemists have perfected a distillation process that could work in the lower gravity? What about Kenzie over on level 48, she's expecting a baby soon and refuses to tell anyone who the father is? Any obsession with Earth would die very quickly.

Would the Generation Ships keep in touch with family members left behind? Now, this is a difficult question to answer. Yes, at first. Less and less as new generations are born on board the ships. Even less when the older generation passes away. That's not the difficult part. It's how long people back on Earth will even _remember_ that there's a relative of theirs on board a Generation Ship.

 

**Theory of Relativity Messing Up Your Shite**

See, a funny thing happens when you travel at the speed of light or faster than the speed of light. It's called the time dilation effect. Events that occur at the same speed for everyone on Earth will not occur at the same time for people travelling at FTL. Time on Earth will pass much more quickly than it will pass on a Generation Ship traveling at FTL. 

In fact, in absolutely no time at all (from the Generation Ship's perspective), all the wars waged on Earth have ended, Earth is now an Utopia made up of survivors, and they are all working toward the greater goal of making certain that what has happened to their planet never happens again. Some of them might continue to perform research on space travel. They'll improve on the warp drives. They might even try to find the Generation Ships that went to space before them.

The thing is, though, these new ships are faster. They're probably bigger. They'll outstrip the Generation Ships in absolutely no time whatsoever. They'll settle planets first. And, the Generation Ships will never know because they were never in contact with Earth, don't have long-range sensors worth shite, don't know how to communicate with new ships, and will simply assume that when they do encounter the planets that the later Colony ships landed on, that they were _indigent_ to those planets or that they were beaten there by another Generation Ship. Whatever that they thought, they carried on.

 

A NEW CIVILIZATION: THE START OF THE EMPIRE 

Anthropologically, what happens when a group of people are banded together through circumstances and are cut off from all other groups? 

Whatever culture had been brought on board the Generation Ship -- by individuals or by the group as a whole -- will adapt to the conditions of the ship and the situation. They may be enhanced, they may be suppressed, they may change. Societal norms will shift or tighten -- for example, if a disease that unexpectedly broke out on board took out most of the younger and older population, there's going to be a pressing need to replace the next generation -- up to the point where multiple partners would be permitted, even encouraged. Nothing will replace the knowledge and education of the older population, and people would be struggling to repair their own ships -- and there wouldn't be any time for sitting-down-and-learning, either, so someone might get appointed to the role of researcher to find the information needed to address a specific problem or situation.

Governments will rise, governments will fall -- all within a few decades, too, until something stable comes along. Multi-cultural Generation Ships will either have it easiest or they will have it hardest -- either every member of the ship will realize that they need _everyone_ in order to survive and will operate under the principle of tolerance, slowly integrating aspects of every culture until everyone shares the same, uniform mishmash of traditions and language, or people won't be able to get over the prejudices that followed them from Old Earth and it will go very badly for a very long time before things grudgingly stabilize.

Or, if the Generation Ships were organized based on cultural groups, it still wouldn't necessarily go over very well. Either way, it comes down to one very important thing -- they need to rely on each other in order to survive, and in these sort of conditions, survival trumps all. The law might change -- anyone endangering the ship would not receive a fair trial, for example, but be executed summarily on the spot -- and even the traditions will change.

Consider this: the children born in 2010 will not recognize a great deal about society in 1910, and the reverse is also true. The first generation on a Generation Ship will no more recognize the culture that emerges several generations down the line than the newest flock of infants in the maternity ward of the makeshift hospital will be able to understand their forebears -- but, at the very root, they'll be able to understand the one commonality that they will have: the ship itself.

 

For a while, the Generation Ships will hum along. But no degree of maintenance can keep something working forever. Engines will break down. They'll slow, lose speed. The navigation systems will get confused. Eventually, the Generation Ships will no longer be flying in formation. They'll lose touch with each other. They'll be scattered throughout the different galaxies, though they are ultimately heading for the same goal.

 

And eventually, everything breaks down -- but it's always when it's the darkest that hope comes from a most unexpected source. I have, thus far, made absolutely no mention about alien life forms.

 

**Alien Life Forms**

In **_SL &PK_**, this is the turning point that makes the basis for the ruling Houses of the Empires. However that each Generation Ship encountered the alien species, the alien species in question were _fascinated_ by the humans. So fascinated that they not only helped the humans, but they stayed with them for a time, nurturing them and teaching them, and even integrating their cultures. Some of these aliens even intermingled with the humans, and their offspring bore traits from both worlds.

Wait -- is this even possible?

At present, there is no evidence that alien life exists -- or rather, there is no evidence that alien life with which we can communicate exists. However, there's plenty of evidence that alien life _might_ exist:

  * In 1977, SETI (the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence) picked up a 72-second transmission that did not originate from Earth nor from the Solar System. It has not been identified, and nor has it been detected again. This is known as the Wow! Signal.


  * In 2003, SETI detected three transmissions emitting at an unique frequency originating from a region of space from which there are no stars. While it could be discounted as noise, it also cannot be ruled out entirely as coming from an alien origin. 


  * In 2012, SETI detected radio signals coming from the area of the Kepler galaxy, but there exists doubt that it is alien in origin. 



Taking into account all the information available to us, someone has gone ahead and calculated the probability -- or rather, the _estimate_ \-- of how many worlds exist out there that can support life with a culture technologically advanced enough to contact us -- if they were so inclined. This is the Drake Equation, and it is estimated that there are 10,000 communicative civilizations in the Milky Way alone. Who knows how many more that there could be _outside_ of the Milky Way?

As for genetic and reproductive compatibility, I have absolutely no idea. But consider this:

  * The human race shares 96% of its DNA with chimpanzees (some sources will cite 98.8%, but they're not taking into account genetic duplication that is repeated in one species but not in another). It also has other genetic similarities -- 90% with cats, 75% with mice, 50% with bananas. While cool -- and also a bit creepy -- what this means is that the base code that makes up the DNA of every creature on the planet, and by "creature" I include viruses and bacteria, is the same.



What's to say that life couldn't have evolved similarly on other planets? That the chemical composition of the base amino acids that make up the DNA of the human race couldn't be the same as the chemical composition of the base amino acids that make up the DNA of an alien race?

What's to say that an alien race wouldn't have the technology to _blend_ genetics in order to encourage reproduction between two different species? 

The only question that remains unanswered is _why_. What's their motivation for doing so? There's plenty of possibilities, and those include:

  * They're sadistic bastards (though, to be fair, they're aliens. What they're doing might be perfectly acceptable in their own minds and cultures).
  * They genuinely believe that blending the DNA will be mutually beneficial to both races -- or perhaps only to the human race. 
  * It just happened that way. Aliens are people too; they fall in love just like anyone else -- or at least, their definition of love. 



In any case, this mingling of DNA is important to the story for _reasons_. It's been hinted at in the Glossary that the alien races who helped the different Houses are, for the most part, extinct. The most likely reason that they shared their DNA was so that it would be passed on and so that it would survive, and the aliens saw in the human race a determination to survive that exceeds their own.

 

Now, I could've just handwaved it all for the sake of the story without providing evidence that there are, in fact, alien civilizations out there, but the fact that science supports their potential existence only gives more credence to their presence in fiction. I could've also just handwaved the whole genetic blending thing -- which goes unexplained in the story -- but I wanted to convince myself of their motivations so that it held credence in my own mind going forward.

That said, I chose not to say much more about aliens in **_SL &PK_** beyond the fact that they exist, and while there's mention of a couple of humanoid alien species, by no means are they limited to having a humanoid shape. 

Case in point: the Shadow planet healed on its own after being seemingly destroyed by Conglomerate weapons of mass destruction. That should not have been possible. However, what _is_ possible is that the very sense of _home_ that made Merlin and the rest of the House of Shadows ache to return may be because the living entity that both healed and repaired the planet is also their kin and ancestor.

 

**Someone Gets There First**

Either way, it's thanks to the alien species that so many of the people on board the Generation Ships survived to travel as far as they did. By the time that the ships finally started to fall apart despite all the help they had received from their benefactors, several things had happened:

  * Every Generation Ship who had survived this far had been put in touch with each other and were able to coordinate their efforts to move forward.


  * The culture of each Generation Ship had further evolved to incorporate aspects from the alien society that they'd each encountered. 


  * Now on their own and no longer co-mingling with alien DNA, the children with mixed ancestry become less hybrid in appearance and more humanoid with each progressing generation. While their appearance changes, the base _gifts_ and abilities received from their mixed parentage remains, even becoming stronger. 


  * The quadrant of space that they'd chosen to settle upon was already populated by later versions of faster Generation Ships that came from Old Earth. 



They'd keep going, but their ships can't make it. And, needless to say, their arrival is not anticipated and it's met with a mixed bag of emotions. 

The Generation Ships are greeted either with hostile force or with a politically-friendly "Hello, nice to see you, but please move along." Some people think, "Oh, great, more people to feed." Other people roll their eyes and don't want strangers getting in the way.

But the people in the Generation Ships aren't leaving. They're not leaving because they are survivors. Their long journey had been undertaken using subpar technology and danger every step of the way. They are a harder race of human, made stronger by trial and tribulation and more powerful by the mixed blood some of them bear.

There was war, at first. And the people on the Generation Ships were outmatched. They didn't have the weapons. They definitely didn't have the ships. But they were strong, and they were united by the single cause that had driven them all along.

They banded together and became the Houses, taking their alien ancestors' banners for their own. They used their inherited gifts and skills to their advantage. The war they fought was harsh but didn't last long, and they were the ones to rebuild. And what they built was an Empire.

 

**Rebuilding Civilization**

How long does it take to rebuild a civilization? That's a good question. I looked it up. And immediately regretted it, because the first million hits on Google happen to be for a _game_ about building civilizations, so no help there. I could have refined my question a bit more, but it turns out that I don't _have_ to:

There's already a civilization in place. What's missing is a societal structure, but that will come, given time, particularly since the Houses are being positioned as the equivalent of a monarchy given their unique powers and abilities.

The real question to ask is:

  * How advanced can a civilization get?



Smarter men and women than I have thought about this question and come up with answers -- like this guy, who wrote an essay on the topic. According to this article, at this point in the worldbuilding, my little universe still has a ways to go.

So far, I have:

  * A few galaxies populated with people who arrived in the quadrant well ahead of the Mark IV, V, and VI's, who have fewer generations between them and an evolved Earth-like society.


  * The Mark IV, V and VI populations, which have developed their own societies and cultural niceties, and which have also absorbed aspects of alien culture, knowledge, and even genetics to almost be a remote people from the people who have already settled in these parts of the universe. 


  * Dubious interactions with _new_ alien races who are native to the neighbourhood, but who look upon the human race with varying degrees of disdain and generally keep to themselves. 



So where do they go from here?

Ever onward, that's where.

As the years and generations pass, several things happen:

  * The population increases and spreads out across additional galaxies. The Houses take dominion of different quadrants and establish the Empire. The House of Dragons, as the ones who band the peoples together, become the Imperial family.


  * Multiple attacks in the early years decimated the House of Dragons until the lineage was limited to only a few distant bloodlines and one primary bloodline. Fearing for the future stability of the Empire, it is the House of Dragons who approached the elusive and secretive House of Shadows, asking for their help. No one knows what was offered or what the House of Shadows receive in return, but from this point forward, there is always a member of the House of Shadows with the Emperor. 


  * Trade with alien species occurs; there is an exchange of ideas and knowledge. Additionally, now that the Houses have access to building plants, mines, and resources they wouldn't otherwise have when they were on the Generation Ships, begin to work toward new technologies. 


  * The Houses are unwilling to remain out of touch with each other, particularly now that they are spread out over several galaxies and are continually expanding. Communication remains a problem -- it takes too long for a message to get there, and courier services, much like the Pony Express back on Old Earth, springs up to carry messages along prescribed routes. 


  * Other technologies develop, in part out of a need for more contact between the Houses than a mere handwritten, electronic, or voice messages. Three-dimensional video is a standard on most screens, but it's not enough. Holograms, which were already in use on some of the Generation Ships and a static, blurry constant on the ships that were built after them, receive a technological boost. It is now possible to generate and view full colour, fully three-dimensional projections with phenomenal sound pickup. 


  * The warp drives that got them this far are no longer adequate. Alien races, for example, can travel a set distance between galaxies in a fraction of the time. It's no longer feasible to wait several months to a year for a message from another House -- not with the rapid development of their society. 


  * FTL technology develops. The first transwarp drives are developed, but are notoriously unstable. Despite their unreliability, the transwarp technology gives the Empire a taste of what could be -- messages between far-flung galaxies now exchanged in weeks instead of months and years. Transwarp becomes the foundation of a prototype communication relay system. 


  * The first layer of Imperial Communication Nodes are scattered in a broad net-pattern in-between galaxies. Messages are now transmitted from node to node in data bursts that are accelerated through a transwarp funnel and forwarded to their destination. A response to a message now takes mere _hours_.


  * Despite the years that have passed since the Houses established the Empire, they prefer to remain planetside. This doesn't stop other people from practically _living_ on ships and taking berths in different galaxies, or for the Houses to continue the development of technology for faster travel. 


  * Alien space travel technology is experimented with, to disastrous effects. An incompatibility between the Imperial power sources and alien technology results in the formation of unstable wormholes and the collapse of at least one star in one of the test galaxies. Although later generations have corrected the problem, wormhole FTL is banned from the Empire and is used only by alien races and, later, by certain mercenary groups. 
  * Incidentally, given that space is a hostile environment, with a temperature approaching absolute zero, where some areas are colder than others and the estimated average is 2.7 degrees Kelvin. In **_SL &PK_**, space becomes just another environment requiring a heavier coat -- except that heavier coat is a space suit capable of withstanding the pressure differential required to maintain an enclosed breathable atmosphere against the void of space. New textile technology means that a suit design no longer needs to be the big, bulky helmeted design of the very first astronauts. 



 

THE PIRATES

For a long time, the Empire is at peace. But there are still factions who remember that their ancestors left Old Earth not only because it was overpopulated, fraught with war, with increasingly depleting resources, but because they did not agree with the political climate and neither did they happen to be happy with the government's dictates.

For all that the Empire was largely as close to an Utopia as they could reach without having a uniform, completely idyllic society, they were doing pretty good. The Imperial Seat was on the capital planet of Albion, where they also held court. The royal Houses that made up the membership of the court were sprawled across the galaxies and represented each one. And there were those who just didn't want that kind of life, and they packed up and _went_.

Although most of the people who journeyed ever onward were from the later generations of Colony ships who had arrived in these parts of the universe _first_ , overwhelmed by what they saw to be superior firepower (really, who can compete against the House of Dragons, who have a preternatural ability to charm the most recalcitrant of curmudgeons?), they had lost their desire to stay and fight and craved to find a place that they could call home with one-hundred-percent certainty, and it had to be a home that they would defend to their dying days, because they wouldn't be moved again.

 

**Psychic Abilities**

I didn't mention this "other" population before beyond their interaction with those who are the origin of the Imperial Houses. Their interaction is basically: "Hello, you might've left first, but we got here first, so we have first dibs" which resulted in a little bit of war and a collusion between the different peoples who were there and how their society developed as a result. I didn't say anything about the people themselves, but that doesn't mean that they are any less important to the story:

  * This population might have come to this quadrant of space by means of the newer, faster, fancier warp drives, but that doesn't mean that they were better or _safer_ than the older warp drives of the Mark IV, V and VI's. The people were affected by an unusual type of radiation emitted by their own engines, undetectable at the time, that was strong enough to mutate their DNA.


  * Not everyone was affected by the radiation. Maybe the families who lived on the decks above and below the engine room. Maybe the people who worked in the engine room -- engineers, maintenance personnel. Maybe even the children who were playing hide and seek, and one particular child had a favourite hiding space in the engine room.



What was the effect of this radiation? For most people, absolutely nothing changed. For others, the morphology of their brain patterns changed.

What does this mean?

There are people who believe that the human race has always had the potential to develop extrasensory abilities -- or rather, to use a sense that falls outside the common five of touch, sight, sound, smell, and taste. I personally put _instinct_ in the category of the senses that every human being has. But in addition to those, there's the probable addition of _paranormal_ senses that include telepathy, telempathy, precognition, psychometry, psychokinesis, and clairvoyance.

Yup. I went there. Psychic ability. 

I'm not going to lie. A lot of people think it's a lot of pseudoscience. Maybe it is, but the [Society for Psychical Research (SPR)](http://www.spr.ac.uk/main) was established in 1882, and (if we believe Wikipedia) more than 30 countries study psychic abilities, so there's got to be _some_ merit into the claims of these abilities being real.

If one goes off the assumption that psychic abilities originate solely from changes in the brain ([synaesthesia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synesthesia), for example, is considered to be a neurological disorder), it's not much of a jump to wonder what _might_ affect brain chemistry on either a temporary (chemical substances or electrical currents) or permanent (serious head injuries, long-term or high-current exposure to electrical currents, generational mutation of the DNA associated with the formation of the brain) basis.

In **_SL &PK_**, the admittedly small percentage of the population who traveled to the quadrant on the faster warp ships (a.k.a. the first settlers) were the only ones to have been affected by the radiation. This made their talents stronger, more permanent, and more likely to pass on to the next generation.

Except:

  * The engines of their ships eventually broke down, were repaired, or were replaced entirely, and no one could reproduce the radiation artefact that triggered a sudden manifestation of psychic ability in one particular subset of this population -- though it's debatable that they even _knew_ that there was a radiation leak from the engines affecting them in the first place. This initial burst of psychic ability was of _limited duration_.
The very nature of mutation is a change in a normal DNA chain. Natural mutation (from evolution, for example) tend to be more stable than mutations that are caused by damage (from radiation, for example). It's a crapshoot whether the mutation will persist -- and in a large segment of the affected population, the mutations were classified as a _recessive_ trait -- meaning that, given enough generations, the gene coding for psychic ability will be "bred out" of the bloodline. 
  * In a smaller segment of the population -- the population that already had psychic ability -- the mutation is classified as a _dominant_ trait and is more easily passed on, capable of persisting for up to eight generations or more, with varying degrees of manifestation and strength. This gene can and will spontaneously appear in future generations. 
  * In **_SL &PK_**, there's a mention of psychic talent in the young segment of the population. Rather than to be feared and viewed with suspicion, among these people, it's considered to be a valuable skill and is fostered, even encouraged. Unfortunately, a change in brain chemistry at puberty means that most of the young people with psionic abilities lose them. The few who retain the ability into adulthood grow up to be revered, allowed liberties that are not normally allowed the remainder of the population -- but more on these people later. 



Incidentally, just because they decide they don't like the way that the royal Houses and the Empire is set up -- it doesn't mean that they leave the Empire by themselves. Surprisingly -- or not so surprisingly, individual members of the Houses also go with them.

In fact, as the years go on, some of the lesser _Houses_ also leave for parts unknown, and whether or not they ended up among the Pirates is a Clan secret unique to those Houses, because, well. Look at it this way. If they were going to leave the Empire to join up with people who left the Empire because they didn't like the way the Houses were handling things, you don't exactly show up on their doorstep saying that you're a House looking for a new place to live. You _especially_ don't do that when the people you're going to live with have already had their galaxy taken out from under them, either

 

**But What About the Rum?**

Anyway, the psychic thing is actually a very tiny, tiny part of this segment of the population that separates from the Empire. And, you know, they didn't start out calling themselves or _being_ Pirates, either. They were just settlers who decided to up and go somewhere else because they didn't like their landlords, but now that they don't have a place to stay, they get a bit huffy by the fact that they left everything behind. Some of them even get it into their heads that they were _chased out_ by the Empire, which, you know, dredges up significant bad blood even if it's not true.

So they find a new quadrant of space to live in, decide that it's not fair that they have to start from scratch when they're the ones who set up the foundations that the Empire had been built on, and...

Hello, buccaneers.

At first termed _terrorists_ because all they were doing was darting into Imperial space to pick up a few supplies at the outpost planets and leaving behind a bit of carnage, the crews of the ships decided that they didn't fancy being _terrorists_ when what they were doing was simply relieving the Empire of the extra stuff they didn't need. And, besides, _terrorist_ sounded like such a bad thing. They named themselves buccaneers.

As their population grew, more and more people joined into the pillaging and profiteering business -- purely to help out and to give them a leg up in all things, of course. Pretty soon, it became their livelihood:

  * The Captains of the buccaneer ships became the very first members of the Pirate council. Every member of the council had to be supporting a certain portion of the population regardless of their kinship.


  * These smaller groups of population became Clans -- mainly because they were made up of the large, sometimes sprawling families of the buccaneers. The head of the Clan wasn't necessarily the Captain of the buccaneer ship that provided for them. 


  * They shunned every aspect of Imperial law and came up with their own code -- a Code of Conduct, a set of rules determining fair split of profits, even a set of undeniable laws that none of them could break or they would face the surest form of justice: death. 


  * Every Clanhead governed their own Clan. They had the right to set up their own infrastructure or government, delegating tasks and duties in the same way that people were given tasks and duties on board a ship. 



As the population boomed -- and it _boomed_ , the Pirates spread out, too. While the actual breadth of claimed Pirate territory is unknown, even by the Pirates themselves (they just like to claim everything), the Empire is happy to harry them out of their space when the Pirates wander over to help themselves, and not to bother them any further.

As far as the Empire is concerned, the Pirates are human, too, and they were once part of the Empire. They don't -- generally -- hurt people, and they are taking replaceable goods. In a strange, twisted way, the Empire feels they owe the Pirates a debt for what their ancestors had done -- even though the ancestors of the crew and passengers of the Generation Ships had left first, the later travellers were the one to colonize and terraform the planets. For that alone, the Empire was willing -- up to a point -- to cast a blind eye to what the Pirates were doing.

The longer that the Pirates were unmolested, the more that their civilization developed. Their society entrenched in a free-living culture where adherence to a Code was preferred over following the Laws, and the more and more that the Pirates became more independent, the more and more that plundering and pillaging became a rite of passage, a feat of courage, and a challenge between disputing Pirates. They focused inward, too -- each Clan had a talent of their own that they honed and perfected until they became masters in their fields, even exceeding the Empire's own technology.

 

**One of These Things is Not Like the Other**

Obviously, there are cultural differences between the Empire and the Pirates. 

The Empire:

  * Is ruled by a monarchy of families originating from an Earth even older than the Earth known by most of the settlers in the galaxy;
  * Is led by a familial line whose final decision becomes law regardless of the approval of the Royal Court; 
  * Follows a stringent set of rituals and rules, court protocols and clearly elucidated laws; 
  * Is structured in a strange mix of alien culture and feudal hierarchy; 
  * Focuses on equality and peace, requiring everyone to have an education and employment. 



The Pirates:

  * Are led by Clanheads who are the heads of different families, be they male or female, and are considered young, raw, and undisciplined;
  * Are ruled by a King that is elected to the position from among one of the Clans, whose final decision only comes as a result of consensus from among all the Clanheads; 
  * Follows a strict Code of Conduct and has a convoluted justice system with laws that are mostly suggestions but protocols that are mostly law; 
  * Is structured in a strange mix of naval military and familial ties; 
  * Focuses on equality and peace, giving everyone who wants an education the education they want and employment is forced upon them, because Pirates don't broker fools. 



The Imperial Houses remain largely static; there is very little exchange between them. This is for a reason -- many of the Houses would prefer to keep their bloodlines pure, to keep the gifts inherited by their alien ancestors from being diluted or muddled by other alien gifts.

The Pirate Clans, however, encourage genetic diversity and an exchange of knowledge. It's not unheard of for a Pirate born of one Clan to be fostered into another, to apprentice into a second, to gain practical knowledge in a third, marry into a fourth, and finally declare himself a member of a fifth, cutting off every blood tie to the Clan of his birth. Neither is it unheard of for a Pirate to keep his or her Clan but work for another on a permanent basis, swearing allegiance to them -- though that's where the waters get muddy, because that Pirate is required under the Code to remain loyal to their birth Clan, so whatever Clan they works for and swears allegiance, the Pirate has to trust that the other Clan isn't going to ask them to go against his Clan. And yet, a Pirate who forswears his birth Clan, joins another, then _leaves_ the second Clan to join a third? That's a problem, because loyalty cannot be seen to shift vapidly, and a Pirate who vacillates between a Clan and another and yet a third probably!definitely can't be trusted. Changing Clans is therefore something not done lightly.

So, where the Houses are set up to follow rite and ritual by rote, the Clans are free to do whatever they want as long as it doesn't contradict the Code, and about a million other rules and laws in the process. Where the law is clear-cut in the Empire (but the history upon which it is based not so much, considering that most of those laws originate from alien cultures that no one else has seen nor met), the law is a flamboyant hand-wave of how much someone can get away with without breaking the Code (but the history they are based upon are very clear, because the history is a source of pride).

It can be very confusing, being a Pirate.

Anyway, over the years -- no, scratch that. Over the _generations_ , it's become something of a petty rivalry between the Empire and the Pirates. The more daring pillaging is a claim to fame, while the Empire tries its best to keep the Pirates from doing _too much_ damage. The Houses never changed their stance in regards to the Pirates helping themselves to a variety of goods, so, understandably, some people were upset when the Imperial ships only put in a token effort to chase after the Pirates, stopping short of unclaimed space even when it looked as if the Pirate ships were about to be captured.

But more on those miffed people later.

Before I wander off into another topic, I'll mention one more thing that the Empire and the Pirates have in common -- both the royal Houses and the Pirate Clans have a symbol and a colour combination to represent them. Where it's called a House _sigil_ , it's a Clan _crest_ \-- tantamount to the same thing, except the House sigil is usually on a banner or a shield, while a Clan crest stands on its own or is represented smack-dab in the centre of a Jolly Rogers' skull. While the House sigils are rarely touted outside of their home planets or the Royal Court (and outsiders might learn of them in school but aren't required to know them on sight -- just that they exist and to watch out for them), the Clan crests are _flaunted_ in a very in-your-face manner -- embroidered on articles of clothing, painted on armour, tattooed on flesh, stenciled on the nose-end of a ship.

You can't miss them, and that's the way the Pirates like it. Unless they don't want you to see them, in which case, that's a completely different ball of wax.

 

TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCES

 _Where needs must_ , technology was developed to fill a need. It goes without saying, the Empire and the Pirates don't need the same things. Since the Empire didn't really see the Pirates as a threat, they focused their attentions on the growing mercenary scrum -- made up of the dregs of the Empire, the Pirates, and the alien races who happen to have been in the neighbourhood -- who were maliciously attacking outposts at the edges of Imperial space, way out on the other side from where the Pirates took up residence.

The Empire is obviously more interested in making sure that they have effective weapons, though they prefer not to kill if they don't have to, so their weapons are largely to disable and capture rather than to destroy outright. They have also spruced up their communication nodes to make certain that they will always get a mayday. Even the House of Shadows got in on the act, creating _shadow_ nodes that were invisible to the naked eye and that couldn't be destroyed by the mercenaries. 

So, weapons and communications were a priority for them.

Pirates, on the other hand, put a lot of value on _evasion_. They put a heck of a lot of thought toward how long they can stay in a particular sector of space (pillaging and plundering, as is their wont) before the Imperial ships catch up and how to get away from them. They don't care overmuch about calling for help because that's a dark mark on their pride if they do, and they'd be mocked _mercilessly_ if they did, anyway.

So, for the Pirates, it's all about knowing where the Imperial ships are and evasion.

 

**Communications**

I've already discussed how communications happens in space and mentioned the workaround. There's not much to add to that except to say that the Empire does what it can to safeguard the nodes and to solidify the Net of information that passes through it. They do that they way we do -- we get firmware updates, we find new cabling, we increase the RAM, for example. Little baby steps, but not much else. 

The communication nodes are an important system, and it's become too important to completely overhaul all at once. The only way that would happen is if they established a system, _right now_ , that could do exactly the same thing that the nodes can do without any downtime. Unfortunately, they don't have a suitable alternative, though they _have_ been working on something. It doesn't get far in the development before...

Well. 

You'll see.

 

**Weapons**

So. About weapons.

 

**First: Small arms**

Weapons weren't needed back when they were on Generation Ships -- hell, having a weapon on board was tantamount to courting disaster when there was very little shielding between whoever was on board and the vast expanse of space. Every weapon that was developed was built with whatever they had on hand when they arrived in the sector, and if there's anything that they learned during those early years, it's that weapons don't act the same way in space as they do on a planet where there's an atmosphere and gravity and wind resistance and _shite in the way_. So although projectile weapons exist, they're usually only seen on a planet's surface. 

Usually. Projectile weapons are dangerous things in space, but usually at a super-last resort. Because, well, it's practically suicidal, okay?

But on a planet and in space, people are more likely to be armed with pistols and rifles and blasters -- and by _blasters_ , I'm thinking of _blunderbuss_ , capable of a wide-spread fire, but limited distance). These weapons are _energy discharge_ weapons -- short-range laser fire, plasma bursts, electrical fire. The most dangerous of them is the laser fire, because it can be pinpointed and concentrated and fire through a ship's hull, for example, but plasma bursts have a very limited range and eventually dissipate, so it's safer for ships (but not people).

Just like any other projectile-based weapon, the energy discharge weapons need a source -- except instead of bullets, it's a power cartridge. Most weapons are on safety, which is essentially _power off_ , and need to be triggered before they are charged and armed. And just like a gun magazine, there's only so many shots that an energy-discharge weapon can fire before it runs out of juice and the power source needs to be replaced.

We're aware of Tasers, for example, so we know that electrical discharge are pretty potent weapons for as long as they can retain a charge. Plasma discharge weapons and laser weapons are probably nothing more than prototypes on paper with no physics or math to back them up, or they're figments of my imagination, but both are equally plausible. There is some science behind it -- namely, that plasmas are formed from an electron cascade of a gaseous substance, for example, and that lasers are, well. They can be more than the little red dot that we wave around to drive our pets crazy.

Suffice it to say that any small-arms energy discharge weapon would be badass. It wouldn't exactly vaporize a person, and any injury would be cauterized almost immediately from the heat of the injury, so that saves on having to do a bit of body clean-up afterward, wouldn't it?

 

**Second: Personal Body Armour**

A corollary to the existence of small arms is getting protection against the small arms. I mean, who wants to get shocked by an electrical charge? That's easy enough to disrupt -- wear something to disrupt the charge -- either by absorption or conduction. 

So either you wear a full-on rubber suit under your clothes (and yes, there were the usual cracks made toward those who did wear them, but the Condom Suit wasn't that bad), or you wear clothing with special fibres that will channel the electricity for some other use, like, oh, charging up the next battery pack for your gun.

The drawbacks to the Condom Suit is that it's not perfect. It's difficult to put on, it's even harder to get off. It's worse than wearing a scuba suit -- and that's saying something when you need to slather yourself in a dilute solution of dish soap just to become slippery enough to put it on (it's cheaper than K-Y). It's prone to ripping, overheating, and getting so badly damaged from sustained fire that it's not any real protection at all.

And charging up the battery pack? Well, no matter how advanced the textiles, a nice business suit will still be very heavy with all the stitched conduits to shunt the electricity somewhere else. If one of those conduits breaks, the odds are high that the wearer will just get electrocuted anyway. As interesting the idea of shunting the electricity to a power cartridge, it's not really that efficient, because even an electrical charge will dissipate over a large surface before the charge itself will be redirected in the right direction. It's kind of like drawing rivers in the sand with your fingers and dumping a pail full of water on top of it. The contact point will get washed out, while some of the "rivers" will start shunting the water away, but there's no telling which direction it should go in, and eventually the water will run out of kinetic forward power to keep traveling in the direction it needs to go. So, really, in the end, it's not much of a good design for body armour _at all_ , either.

Besides, the odds that the enemy will have an electrical weapon in the first place when they are giant power sinks and are only really good for one or two shots? They're actually pretty slim. Imagine being the bad guy wearing a Condom Suit must feel after wearing the suit every day for a year, and he never got shot once by an electrical weapon. Pretty fucking embarrassed, I imagine, especially if his guys are snickering behind his back.

Plasma discharge and laser weapons are a completely different monster. And you can't ever account for the fact that the other guy's backup weapon might just be a projectile weapon. I don't care if it fires rubber bullets or BB pellets -- projectile weapons hurt, and they can do a hell of a lot of damage either on a planet's surface or in space.

And, well. I digress.

The point being, whatever weapon someone's going to come across, they better hope that they have armour that can protect them against a broad spectrum of weapons. That means multiple layers, with the strongest layer out on top -- something that can deflect or absorb the plasma discharge and the laser blasts. Reflection is usually the surest bet for laser fire, so the plating had better be able to withstand the high heat generated by the pinpoint laser while strong enough to reflect or diffract it. What about the plasma discharge? Well, like I'd mentioned, they're best at short-range, so it would be a matter of enduring the intense heat generated by that kind of ballistics.

The kind of technology needed to manufacture these kinds of armour plating aren't too far off -- we already use Kevlar against bullets, even if it's not that great. But combat-grade Kevlar with ceramic plating is a smidge better (if heavier and bulkier), able to withstand high-velocity rounds. And there's  research into spider silk armour, which would be thinner, lighter, and more flexible than what is currently on the market right now.

Most suits of armour -- particularly those worn on ships or by soldiers on space stations -- do double-duty. They are also capable of maintaining a limited protection against both the lack of atmosphere and intense cold of space. If someone happens to go outside for whatever reason, they'll survive until someone notices they're gone and comes to pick them up -- with a caveat. These are not full space suits. _Limited_ protection is limited, which means, depending on how good the armour is, it might be anywhere from ten minutes to a few hours of guaranteed survival before the systems start to fail.

Like I said, the dangers in the far-flung future are going to be multiple. It's unrealistic to hope that someone's wearing exactly the right type of armour against the enemy when there's no way to know what weapon they'll be hit with in the first place. That means:

  * The majority of the Imperial army and the Pirate Clans are equipped with a minimum of three layers of armour -- a bodysuit that protects both against atmospheric changes and low-velocity weapons, reticulated armour out of a semi-flexible material that can absorb and deflect kinetic energy, and hard plate armour that may or may not cover the entirety of the body but can take the brunt of damage from the heaviest plasma weapon at close range.


  * Both members of the Imperial army and the Pirate Clans, depending on the need or situation, may be additionally equipped with personal shielding. _Yes_ , this is a total TV Trope, and I'm thinking of [Frank Herbert's _Dune_](http://www.dunenovels.com) here, but even the technology used in the _Dune_ novels are based on some sort of made-up physics -- the Holzman effect, for example. The math, however, exists, and it's not outside of the realm of possibility that force fields are something that might exist in our lifetimes.


  * Some members of the more offensively-skilled Royal Houses opt out of wearing more than two defensive layers, preferring to retain only the bodysuit and the reticulated armour, eschewing the heavier plate armour and projected shielding, preferring to rely on their own martial skill and gifts to protect themselves -- though, how, exactly, is unknown.



 

So, to recap: small arms fire are usually short-range weapons, can be projectile-based or energy-based. To defend against them, there's a wide variety of armour options at the local tailor's, some pricier than others, particularly if one goes to a specialist tailor. 

One thing to bear in mind is that unlike on a planet, fighting on board a ship or a space station has one very important restriction -- there's not a lot of room to fight in. This is part of the reason why armour is flexible -- a soldier or a Pirate is more likely to rely on their own fighting skills to get out of a bind and disable the enemy, and they need to be able to move.

This leads to close-quarter combat and needing weapons that can pierce armour designed to deflect some pretty high-powered projectiles. What to do, then? Because it doesn't matter how good the weapons are when the armour is better. It becomes a system of one-upmanship until the manufacturers pretty much match each other in effectiveness and efficiency.

What to do then? The weapons and the armour are only as good as their wearers. During combat, when small-arms weapons become useless, they've got to resort to themselves for survival.

 

There's always the old standby when the guns run out of power. Everyone's equipped with a knife, because no one wants to be tangled in something when they are operating under zero-gravity conditions and moving fast is a priority. Knives can actually be one of the deadliest weapons in space. Something doesn't always have to move at high velocity to do a lot of damage. A cutting edge sharp enough to split a molecule -- and believe me, that should be easy enough to maintain considering that we design enzymes to split them (I'd link a reference, but all the articles that I have on the topic are journal papers that you need to be a subscriber for; a physical split is possible using certain types of UV light -- is plausible, even if it's nothing but a TV trope right now.

I like the idea of swords and knives in space -- wait. I need a new heading.

 

**Third: Edged Weapons**

Anyway, as I was saying, I like the ideas of swords and knives in space. On board _naval_ Pirate ships in the heyday, they had a broad variety of weapons that are easily adapted for use in _space_ , right down to the cannons for the ships -- which I'll go into later. But in essence:

  * Pirate Clans make use of smallswords and cutlasses, daggers and dirks, boarding axes and pikes. 


  * Imperial soldiers use long knives and daggers; additionally, they are trained in the use of bayonets, which are usually affixed to their rifles, or they can detach them and fight without. 


  * The Royal Houses, if they are an combat-oriented House, would have their own type of martial arts and use weapons associated with that art, be they human in origin or alien. 



Knives and short swords make sense on board a ship where the corridors are narrow and there's not much room for swinging them around. Rapiers might be used, too, because they're perfect for thrusting forward and backward, and don't have cutting edges, but they're long and are a pain in the arse to carry around.

These weapons are by no means "normal". They're not reproductions and they're not run-of-the-mill knives from the kitchen store. These are _specialized_ weapons using a combination of ancient and futuristic metalworking techniques, and new types of metals and alloys.

We've seen the commercials on TV -- knives made out of carbon-fibre or ceramic materials that can cut through aluminum cans, plastic tubing, even tomatoes. Surely, in the far-flung future, there would be sufficient innovation that they'd come up with hard materials. [Harder than even diamonds](http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn16610-diamond-no-longer-natures-hardest-material.html#.UiCmLLy3Jig). They'll use this material for the hull of a ship, of course, where it's more effective, but, hey, if it's good enough to withstand a barrage of high-velocity missiles, then those materials are good enough to make a few weapons, too.

 

**Fourth: Bigger Weapons**

By _bigger_ , I tend to think _huge_ , but I should rein myself in to first mention that there's weaponry a bit bigger than small-arms fire. Of course there would be. The pistols and rifles and blasters are only good for so many charges, for example. Sometimes there are bigger weaponry with larger power packs and capable of everything from sniper precision (in an universe where everything is computer-controlled and can compensate for fluctuations faster than a human being, there's no need for any specialized sniper training unless, well. Unless the character is _that_ sort of character, in which case, carry on) to blowing a ship out of the sky. 

The person carrying that weapon had better be strong enough to lug it around, is all I'm saying. For all their advances, sometimes large weapons are large for a reason (more damage) and miniaturizing them just doesn't go with their original plan (mass destruction).

But speaking of mass destruction...

 

**Fifth: Ship Weapons**

There's a broad variation of weapons all across the field. While the Imperials might have the best-developed weapons, they also have less imagination. They have:

  * Short-range missiles capable of every velocity and every destruction yield;
  * Long-range "smart" torpedoes with every velocity and destruction yield possible; 
  * Heavy munitions intended for short-range rapid-fire for impact damage; 
  * Laser pulse weapons, also intended for short-range rapid-fire energy damage; 
  * Bombs, either in the form of defensive mines or the sort that get dropped on an area of space or a planet for the inevitable _reset_.



They have reasons to have all these weapons -- they're dealing with mercenaries! Aliens! Pesky Pirates! But on the flipside, the Pirates have just as much to worry about. They might be on the other side of Imperial Space, but that doesn't mean that they don't have to contend with the mercenaries, too. Or that they don't have their share of grumpy aliens who don't particularly fancy the human race. Never mind that they might also have to deal with Imperial undesirables who invade Pirate space and try to steal some of their hoard for themselves.

So, while they might not have the destructive armament that the Empire does (at least, not to the same extent), they make up for it in creative evasion techniques and distraction tools:

  * Netting, which tangles one or more ships together and "anchors" them, usually by causing an electrical discharge that will stop the engines;
  * Harpoons and hooks, both which are destructive to hull plating; 
  * Chaff, buoys, beacons, and other counteroffensive methods; 
  * Mines, which is one of their favourite tricks, including planting minefields where least expected; 
  * Greek Fire -- a nasty, sticky substance that eats through most hull platings and keeps burning even in the absence of atmosphere; 
  * Caltrops, magnetic weapons with shearing, cutting, slicing or explosive capabilities. 



And that's just scratching the surface. Pirates are creative. They're survivors. They punch below the belt. But they would rather _not_ fight if it came to that -- they're much better equipped at temporarily disabling an enemy ship and waving over their shoulder with a cheerful _hasta la vista, baby!_

 

**Sensors**

Space is formed out of everything that makes _space_ between heavenly bodies -- including a variety of particles (most of which can currently only be described by predictive mathematics and theoretical physics), particulates (anything ranging from stardust to space debris, because _nothing_ decomposes in space). At the existing technological capability, our ability to detect Things™ is limited to listening for radio signals in space and observing through a telescope.

That's pretty much the limitation of what sensors are in space, too, except with some added extras into the mix.

The "radio listening" is now an extremely sophisticated sonar system very similar to that which is used on submarines, mixed in with both computerized filtering programs, artificial intelligence to distinguish source and origins of sound, and the human element for identification. There's also multiple levels of listening, just as there are now -- passive and active, where the passive absorbs a broad sound spectrum and applies multiple filters until it identifies a sound worth alerting about, and the active is where it is screening specifically for a class of sound. It could be transient radio signals, the hum caused by an engine, the whoosh of a large ship going at speed.

Sonar-type sensors can also send out signals to identify an object, much like a submarine sonar would send out a " _ping_ " and listen to the result. The problem with sending out _pings_ is that the other ship might detect the point of origin, which, nope. Different ships use different types of equivalent radio signals or generate types of energy to get different types of _pings_ , most of which might not be immediately identified.

The telescopes are still around, too, except to a different degree -- they've been replaced by super-high resolution, ultra-cooled cameras with the capability of taking so many frames per second, they might as well be video. Actually, they are video. The images are three-dimensional with holographic capabilities, and each and every frame can be evaluated, measured, filtered in one fashion or another in the same way that sound is filtered from the audible and inaudible spectrum -- going through the full light spectrum and beyond.

An "extra" to the sensors is a separate system that analyzes for radiation emissions. They are generally used to determine if a sector of space is safe for transport, but can also be used -- and have been used -- to detect radiation emissions from unnatural sources.

Now, granted, the Empire uses its sensors more on an automatic setting, mostly to find those stupid mercenaries that keep making trouble, and to hunt down the Pirates. Cause and effect is they hunt specifically for the signals they know are produced by the people they're hunting down. They're not in the habit of looking for anything else.

On the flipside, the Pirates make their _living_ keeping an ear out for anyone who might catch them in the process of filling their loot bags, so they pay attention to sensors. Of anyone in the known universe, the Pirates have _the_ best sensors -- not just because of better programming, but because they train people to _be_ sensors.

 

**Cloaks**

Cloaking technology exists. I don't even have to tell you. I'll let the links do the talking on this one.

Cloaking technology hasn't been a priority for the Empire, which has a whole other set of issues to deal with. Plus, what is it going to look like if the Empire starts cloaking their ships, anyway? It's going to look as if they have something to hide, and if they want to keep in good standing with the citizens, keeping out in the open is their best bet. Sure, it's going to bite them in combat, particularly since no research into cloaking technology means that they also have done little to no research in how to track the Pirates when the Pirates are cloaked.

This is part of the Empire's edict, something the Houses agreed on a while back; they simply don't want to waste the effort chasing ghosts when those ghosts are largely harmless compared to the damage caused by the mercenaries. For one thing, the Pirates do -- to some degree -- acknowledge a kinship for the people who live in the galaxy they left behind, and they generally don't try to kill them out of hand. (The Imperial Travel Advisory regarding the Pirates has always amounted to _If your ship is boarded by Pirates, stay calm and do as they say; any insured goods lost during this circumstance will be honoured_ ). For another, the mercenaries are paid to do a job as efficiently as possible, and if this means getting rid of people who get in the way, well, it's no skin off their nose. Money is money. (The Imperial Travel Advisory regarding mercenary attacks can be summarized in one line: _If they don't announce themselves as Pirates, run for your fucking lives)_.

Mercenaries, not having the funding (or the inclination) for scientific research, either borrow (more likely: steal) alien cloaking technology which usually doesn't interface very well with the ship's configuration. Some of them may have an older model of ship with an engine room cobbled together with all sorts of interfaces to manage such a cloak, but cloaks of this kind are usually seen as a giant power drain and a waste of resources.

So they're out, too.

The Pirates, on the other hand, prize stealth and evasion over everything else -- even if it means leaving booty behind. If there is one thing that they will never do, it's share their cloaking technology, no matter how much money or goods they're offered in the exchange. If a Pirate is weak enough that he or she succumbs to the offer, the Clans go out of their way to get the schematics or the actual Black Box back from whoever had been stupid enough to purchase it in the first place. This is one of the few times when a Pirate will absolutely, one-hundred-percent, no-hesitation-whatsoever _kill_ someone.

Put mildly, cloaking technology is something on which the Pirates put a great deal of value. Every Clan has invested in this technology, and it's only recently that a Clan of specialist was created for the specific intent of furthering the cloaking project.

Their cloaks are so good that, depending on their sensors and the technician operating it at the time, other Pirate ships don't know that a cloaked ship is there. If a ship is careful -- operates at low energy outputs, minimum emissions, paddle (slow) speed to reduce eddies and currents created by their passage -- they can sneak past another Pirate ship completely undetected. All they need to do is vary the cloaking configuration a _teeny_ bit to make them completely invisible.

Of course, in the early days, that meant that if two cloaked ships were going after the same Imperial plunder, but didn't know that the other was there…

Let's just say that there were more than a few near-misses and too many deadly collisions. Because of this, the Pirates require every Pirate ship to emit an encrypted code on a certain frequency band to allow them to show up on another Pirate ship's sensors. This encryption code is usually hard-wired in the Black Box itself -- which is the number one reason why the Pirates don't want the cloaks to fall into enemy hands.

It would really ruin their day.

 

**Space Travel (PART TWO)**

I'm going to segue here (and in a rather ungainly way, because I'm shoe-horning this piece of information in) to talk about Space Travel. Again.

At the last mention, the Empire had developed transwarp -- faster than warp -- way faster than light speed -- engines allowing them to cross vast expanses and distance in less time. The development of that technology didn't stop there.

Just because warp capabilities is a thing doesn't mean that there isn't something _better_ \-- or at least different and more efficient. Transwarp might reduce travel time from the warp-speed "weeks" down to "days", but that doesn't factor in additional time and space required to enact proper braking maneuvers. No one wants to be speeding along only not to have factored in enough time to come to a stop, for example, and end up with brake skids across space while they try to avoid hitting a planet.

Don't get me wrong. Every type of space travel needs some sort of counter movement. There's no air resistance in space, so nothing will slow down a traveling ship even if the flaps are raised and the landing gear drops. There's no asphalt or gravel roads, either, and no tyres to grip the ground while someone pumps the ABS.

It's just that different types of space travel will require _fewer_ braking maneuvers (which amounts to thrusters blasting in the opposite direction, for example) and _less_ distance for it to be applied.

In any case, breaking the transwarp barrier means that there's suddenly a gold rush for advanced space travel technology and science goes in multiple different directions. Much like the combustion engine versus electrically-charged engines on earth, or DC versus AC current power, or even steam energy versus coal-derived energy, there were different _types_ of advanced FTL technologies.

A lot of them fell by the wayside because they weren't efficient enough, were too expensive, were clunky and couldn't be miniaturized, emitted radiation that turned human beings into monkey-reptile hybrids -- or they were just not popular enough.

Sad to say, even in technological innovation, it's as much a case of which rabbit crosses the finish line first as it is a popularity contest. Or, worse, promising technology is created but the founder dies before it can be pushed onto the market, and the numpty was a secretive sort that kept all of his science in his head instead of on some sort of physical storage device like a normal human being. Also, some technologies did make it to the market, only to fizzle out.

Interestingly enough, at this point in time, people started to understand more about how Space worked and how it was laid out. Yeah, they've been travelling through space all this time, _surely_ they already knew this? Not necessarily -- how long have we been sailing our own oceans? How much do you think we know about the seas? Right now, we actually know less about the ocean than we do about space, but that doesn't stop us from sailing across them, does it?

In any case, the added knowledge of the secrets of space led to a lot of wild theorization for space travel and technology.

One technology that was promising, cheap, efficient, but had the caveat of a crazy-paranoid inventor who only built a few prototypes is **_slipstream_** travel. It's based on the theory that there is a sub-dimension of space (imagine space is flat as a sheet of paper. The sub-dimension would be a "blank" zone right beneath it) in which the fourth dimension, time, does not exist. The trick to slipstream is slipping out of time and emerging somewhere else at the right point in time in order to avoid the paradox of being in the same place at different times.

 

  


 

While slipstream travel didn't gain the mainstream (and how could it when there were only a few prototypes and the inventor died, taking their secrets to the grave), it's still a highly sought-after technology because of the implications involved with eliminating the fourth dimension. Granted, there are fail-safes on top of fail-safes built into the engines to avoid exactly the problem that people wanted to access (because who doesn't want to time travel?), and the engine won't run without them. Regardless, the few engines (or ships, since they are hardwired into the ship itself) that remain are prized and extremely valuable.

Another technology, this one developed by the Pirates and unique to them, is **_foldspace_**. Quite literally, the theory is that, if space is a piece of paper, and the departure and destination points are on opposite ends of that piece of paper, _fold_ the paper in such a way that a ship could fly _through_ the folds to get from point A to point B. It would only have to travel the distance between the folds (gaps included), and the tighter the folds, the faster the travel.

 

  


 

The Empire, though. The Empire likes to stay with the tried-and-true. Transwarp drives still exist, but they did generate new technology based on new theories. One such theory is **_hyperjump_** , which uses a similar theory as foldspace. If space is a piece of paper, with the departure point being close to a transponder satellite and the arrival point being, oh, a few parsecs away from another transponder point on the other side of the page, a ship will travel from one transponder location to the next by "skipping" across space much in the same way that a flat pebble will skip over a flat pond, with the two contact points being linked by the transponders (for navigation purposes). It's not efficient, and it's limited to sections of space where there are transponder nodes, but it is a smooth ride.

 

  


 

A corollary of the hyperjump are the **_hyperdrives_** , which blatantly steals from both the foldspace and hyperjump theories. Transponder nodes are not required, though heavy navigational calculations are; space isn't so much as _folded_ as it is curved, and the hyperdrive uses the curvature of the space to accelerate its own movement much in the same way that a ship would use a planet's gravity to slingshot past it when its engines are dead.

 

  


 

Hyperdrives, incidentally, are the newest technology being developed by the Empire. Or it was, right before the Conglomerate took over. Research into additional space travel technologies stopped immediately after the Conglomerate took charge of the Empire (more on that later), and the distribution of hyperdrives was limited to the newer ships. Older ships weren't retrofitted with the new technology, and the current Imperial Conglomerate fleet is a mismatched mix of different types of space travel.

 

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming: Space Battles.

 

SPACE BATTLES

If there's a gripe I've ever had against science fiction movies, it's in how some of them portray space battles. This doesn't, by any means, imply that I'm some sort of space battle expert. I've never seen a real one, but I don't know of anyone who have, either, so this is the part where I have to consider the actual physics that apply to space, and how battles take place on earth and how those would have evolved in the future. I also do a generous amount of hand-waving.

For anyone who wants to write space battles, I have to defer to better writers in the science fiction field who have done enormous research on the matter and have portrayed space battles on a level that just _blows my mind_. So, read, read, _read_ from the military science fiction section of the nearest bookstore and see how they approached space battles. I am not going to say _rip them off_ , because, you know, totally not cool on multiple levels. I will tell you to look at how they applied science and speculation to fit their universe and apply similar principles them to yours. I have tried to approach space battles in **_SL &PK_** with the same sort of realism and incorporating all the technology and evolution that came out of worldbuilding this universe.

Let's start with… oh…

 

**Explosions in Space**

They look cool in the movies. There's no better appeal to an audience with a destruction kink than making things blow up. A stationary car that was sitting innocently on the kerb, thinking, _today will be the day I don't get a bullet in the gas tank and blow up for no reason explainable by applicable physics_. An airplane whistling along when suddenly a fire breaks out in the _unpressurized cargo hold where there is an insufficiently oxygen-rich atmosphere to keep burning_. A marauding Death Star that receives a single shot by a tiny fighter plane right in the Achilles' Heel and blows up in a spectacular fireworks display.

If I had an image to show you how I felt about each and every scenario displayed above, it would be of a person with a raised eyebrow and a sour-faced _fuck off_ written all over it.

 **First**. Simple physics here, people. There is no atmosphere in space. Things that go boom need a thing that will let them burn up in order to produce the fancy pyrotechnics that make a movie turn blockbuster. For something that's even remotely close, check YouTube for an underwater explosion. That should be close enough to realistic to give you a vague idea of what might happen.

 **Second**. Atmospheric pressure differential is a thing. And by atmospheric pressure differential, I mean that on one side of the bulkhead, there is zero atmosphere. On the other side, it's pressurized by an atmosphere that means people can _breathe_. It's a simple diffusion principle -- if it's really crowded with oxygen molecules on one side, those oxygen molecules are going to want to spread out to an area where it's not so crowded so that there is an equilibrium between the two atmospheres. A tiny pinprick hole in the bulkhead will leak (vent) atmosphere into space unless it's sealed up tight. While it's leaking, small particulates will come along and hit the edges of the hole at high speed, compromising the integrity of the material and widening the hole. Even if the hole is about the size of someone's fist (because, HULK SMASH!) and someone covers it up with, say, the cover of a rubbish bin, _it's not going to fucking save them_. The pressure differential between the two atmospheres is so much that unless the rubbish bin is made out of a material that can withstand one atmosphere venting out _at speed_ , whoever's in the room had better cut their losses and get the fuck out while they can.

 **Third**. If someone creates a weapon powerful enough to burst through shielding and bulkheads, it's not going to stop at merely "exploding" knowing that the odds are _against_ explosions actually disabling the ship. Think about it. Shielding on the hull of a ship is specifically designed to deflect impact damage from incoming projectiles. Why waste explosive power on shielding that won't even bat an eye at something that _might_ manage a tiny puff of smoke in the cold atmosphere of space? And, anyway, if a torpedo or a missile makes it through plate shielding and breaches the hull, it needs not to get blown out into space because of the pressure differential. If it happens to not get blown out, either there'll be a delay before there's a _secondary_ firing to push the missile further into the soft underbelly of the beast, or a delay before a different sort of action will engage.

Number Three, above, is actually a different problem -- the evolution of battle tactics. Oh, look. That's the next topic.

 

**The Evolution of Battle Tactics**

Once upon a time, in the age _just_ after dinosaurs, wars were won using fists, clubs, slingshots, flimsy bows and arrows, and pure brawn.

Once upon a time, in the age _just_ after Neanderthals and Cro-Magnon Man walked the earth, war evolved to use whatever tool was on hand -- knives, pitchforks, hacksaws, scythes, more bows and arrows (but sturdier, this time) and every variation thereof.

Once upon a time, in the age _just_ after people got tired of farming the land and came up with the bright idea of implementing some type of feudal system, battles were fought using sharper knives, longer knives, bigger knives, and other better, bigger variations of weapons that once upon a time used to be simple farming tools and soup spoons.

Once upon a time, in the age _just_ after someone mixed up some black powder with some white powder and created the first firework (and the first insta-hair removal process), guns and cannons were mixed into the equation.

Are we catching on yet? Weapons evolve. People like the bigger boom -- or, more specifically, the most amount of precise damage with the least amount of collateral. 

Weapons aren't the only things that evolve. The _forum_ for the battle changes a great deal -- once upon a time, it used to be a mud pit somewhere, a castle, an ocean. The environment is both a limiting factor and an advantage -- if men and women are trained for fighting in different conditions, there is literally no area in the universe where battle can't take place.

A battle tactic isn't just a complicated football schematic with X's and O's and arrows pointing in crazy squiggles on the screen with a manic coach yelling "Win, team, win!". It's taking into account the weapons that one has on hand, the number of men, and the environment.

If you look at any army in the world and their histories, you'll see that once upon a time, there was no such thing as a cavalry line. Once upon a time, there was no such thing as a cannon line. Once upon a time, there was no such thing as parachutists, and there was no such thing as soldiers who could be equally efficient and deadly in the sea, on earth, and in the air. And one day in the future, there's going to be an entire army of specialists capable of combat in space, too, and there will be specialists within those specialist teams.

The first and biggest problem of space battles is that you can't just throw some men outside with a suit and some guns and hope for the best, not when your target is a hundred thousand kilometres away and any projectile ejected from the guns will (eventually) hit the target with no more force than that of a fly hitting a windshield coming at the fly at ninety kilometres per hour (never mind the recoil sending the poor soldier out of position). 

You can stick your soldiers into one- or two-man fighter ships and eject them with a few missiles loaded under their wings, but that's a waste of time when the target is one million thousand kilometres away and the missiles will burn out of fuel well before they reach their destination.

In **_SL &PK_**, fighting in space is pretty much a long chess game -- waiting on sensors, waiting on confirmation of weapon fire, waiting on the missile or torpedo to hit, waiting to see if there's any damage, waiting for torpedos to be loaded into the launching bay, waiting for the firing sequence, waiting for the torpedo to hit the other ship (if it does, because by the time it's travelled across the massive expanse of space, the torpedo might be shot down or dodged entirely), and reconfiguring strategies from there.

It's not a aim-fire-direct hit situation, obviously. There's a lot of waiting. There's a lot of _guesstimating_ where the target is going to be and employing firing solutions that are at once a bluff to force the target into a maneuver that they wouldn't normally take and to fall for the trap hook, line and sinker.

I see massive battles in **_SL &PK_** to be a lot like the old naval battles with armadas of ships tangling together in a dizzying weave of sails and lines. I see them to be similar air force battles (complete with naval carriers) with wild dogfight maneuvers and tactics. I see them like deep sea submarine battles where most of the people on board don't know what's going on and can't see worth shite through the portholes and have to rely on orders from a superior in a different area of the ship to keep them from sinking to the bottom of the sea.

I see them as a mangled mixture of all three. One thing that each of those scenarios have in common is that they depend heavily on highly-trained crews, and the one way to get that highly-trained crew is to work with the same group of people for a long time, to drill through the same tactics over and over, and to be able to trust that the Captain of the ship will be able to get everyone's arse out of the fire before it's anywhere close to it.

 

**A Brief Word About _Writing_ Space Battles**

Simply put, a big space battle is a _big fucking mess_. Watching one on TV, playing one on a table-top RPG, even jerking angrily at the video game controllers -- it's nuts, trying to keep track of everything. Well, plotting a space battle isn't any easier than trying to follow what's going on. Plotting them out is insane. I tried on more than one occasion to put it down on paper -- I normally sketch out big fights on a sheet of paper with a map of the area and move people around as the action changes -- but a piece of paper is useless in this regard, because space is _three-dimensional_ and the people fighting those fights don't need to rely on the usual North-South, East-West coordinates to move -- now they have Up-Down added, too, and the Up and the Down is relative to someone's position and which way they're facing.

It's freaking awesome to watch on TV or in the movies. It's freaking awful trying to plot it out unless you're the sort who likes to create three-dimensional dioramas complete with things hanging from the ceiling and sticking up from the ground. I'm not one of those people, and quite frankly, people who even consider doing that not only have my complete respect, but they also scare me for having Mad Skillz.

In any case, all of the big ship battle scenes were written in one go, sometimes over two or three days, with me writing them until I thought I would pass out and picking it up again the minute I woke up, because I contain the entire battle in my _head_.

There might have been a bit of spillage.

Even then, the battle was focused on two points of views -- Arthur's and Merlin's. They receive input on the battle from other sources -- from Leon, who's keeping track of every Pirate ship as well as on-board systems, from Lucan, who's receiving sensor input, and from Elyan, who is listening in on streaming communication all across the board. Let's not forget the on-board holos -- real-time two-dimensional vidscreens at the fore of the bridge, stretching from ceiling to deck; an overhead three-dimensional real-time holo displaying the full space quadrant, miniaturized to show positions; smaller three-dimensional real-time holos across everyone's consoles showing a more specific area of space.

If this were a movie, I would be cutting back and forth between bridge view and a pull-back view from outside to show the snarl. It's not possible when writing fiction, not when the entire story has been written from two points of view -- the Captain of the ship, who is aware of the ship's capabilities and the forces against them, and from someone whose combat expertise is limited to up-front and personal. With Arthur's point of view, there's more terminology, more _nitty-gritty_ , because he trusts his crew to do their jobs and his job is to help them keep doing their jobs while giving them new tactics. From Merlin's point of view, there's even less so; all he can do is sit back and watch and hope to Shades and Shadow that they make it to their destination in one piece.

Writing a space battle, at this point, becomes an exercise in figuring out whose perspective it will be told from, and limiting it from there. That POV character might not see it on a grand scale except in glimpses (the overhead holo). They may or may not have the technical expertise to interpret what they're seeing -- or they might be holding on for dear life. Either way, there always has to be a goal. For Arthur, it's not clear at first because he is invested in making certain that his Pirates stay alive, but he's reminded in the end -- by one of those very same Pirates -- that they came here for a reason and that he is the one who is best positioned to ensure that his men do survive the battle.

 

**Planetary Defences**

I'm only going to touch on this briefly, and that's to say -- _of course_ there will be planetary defences. An inhabited planet can't rely on having a naval fleet at the ready to scuttle intruders in their space. And, if anything, the naval fleet coming to their rescue will appreciate any time that can be bought to fend off the attackers -- better yet if those same attackers can be weakened in some way.

Current technology -- current _warfare_ \-- includes ground-to-air and ship-to-air missiles. It's not much of a stretch to imagine ground-to-space missiles, not if anyone remembers the old Star Wars initiative to put lasers in space (though, admittedly, those lasers were meant to be pointed at Earth, not away from it). 

Also, it's not much to think about using mines, either. Mines have long been a staple of warfare all over the world -- and mines are scary fuckers, by the way, because they can still be deadly years after the war is over. 

Finally, there's also the consideration that even if there's a naval fleet _out there in space somewhere_ , there's an equal likelihood that there's a fleet parked on a base somewhere on Earth with space-to-ground landing capabilities that can be launched at a moment's notice if necessary. Granted, by the time that the sensors out in space are tripped to alert someone that they're to expect visitors, it's more likely that "at a moment's notice" can involve up to half an hour's warning -- enough time for someone to shower, change, leisurely fuel up the fighter ships, and head out into space. I'm exaggerating here, but I can't hammer the point enough -- when it comes to space and its' ridiculous vastness, waiting for the enemy to arrive or for the weapons to hit is an exercise in _hurry up and wait_.

 

**Space Coordinates (The Space Battle Edition)**

One thing that I need to mention are the coordinates. Yes, again. I've brought this up before -- how coordinates are usually in reference to a known standard. Every ship in the Empire, among the Pirates, even the mercenaries and the aliens -- use an accepted series of coordinates referencing a fixed (or relatively fixed) point in space when they travel from A to B.

In battle, all bets are off.

If someone is inclined that way (and the Pirates usually are, because of the advantage it gives them), it's reasonable to assume that communications will be hacked and there will be someone listening in. So, if someone gives an order to attack at XYZ coordinates, and those coordinates are based on a fixed point, the enemy listening in will know exactly where the target is, and be able to react accordingly.

It's a well-known battle tactic, pioneered by the Pirates (to hear them tell it) and borrowed by everyone else, that the reference coordinates _change_ to a different set than those given by the standard coordinates. And it's even better when that reference coordinate is a _moving point_. It's usually the biggest warship or dreadnought on the field of battle (typical of an Imperial battle tactic), but it can also be smallest and most unassuming ship that lingers at the rear of the field where no one will bother it (typical of mercenary tactics, because simple is better). Pirates, though. Pirates like it complicated -- the reference point is usually the ship Captained by the person in command, but it can shift to another ship at any given point in time.

Regardless of the reference point, having a _moving_ reference point is both good and bad. The good is that it will take the enemy a good while to catch on and be able to react to defend themselves. The bad is that it makes for a messy snarl of confusing commands, as in this example:

  * Ship A is designated the moving reference point.
  * Ship B gives coordinates for an attack using ship A's reference coordinates _at that point in time_.
  * Ship C gives coordinates for an attack using ship A's reference coordinates _five minutes later_.
  * Ship B moves into a different position. 
  * Ship C moves into another position. 
  * Ship A continues to move across the battlefield and issues attack coordinates based on its own reference coordinates _at their current coordinates_.
  * Ship B gives new coordinates for another attack using ship A's reference coordinates _at that point in time_.
  * Ship A goes down. 
  * Ship C becomes the new reference coordinates -- but it's also positioned at the head of the pack, which means that any attack issued by ship B needs to wait until ship B moves into a better position. 
  * Meanwhile ship D is slower to react and is still using the coordinates from five minutes ago. Ship C is in the way. Ship C gets hit by friendly fire. 
  * Ship B becomes the new designated moving reference point…



Granted, this sort of thing doesn't happen often -- the Pirates are usually on the ball. But they _do_ happen, especially if a ship's communication system is compromised. For the Pirates, losing communication isn't a deal-breaker -- they have redundant systems on top of redundant systems, because a communication is one of their most important tools. But other ships may not be as lucky -- even if they have _one_ fixed reference point, they may not have the communications or alert systems in place to know that they've just moved into someone's line of fire.

More precisely, the coordinates can take many forms, but generally, the XYZ "center" position (0, 0, 0) is the "nose" of the reference point. Let's say that the reference point in question is _Excalibur_. The "nose" would be the centre of mass of the ship (not necessarily). The X axis bisects the ship along that point, from hull to aft. The Y bisects the ship across the width of the ship, from wing to wing. The Z bisects the ship from top to bottom.

Any coordinate behind, to the frontward-facing "left", and below the 0, 0, 0 coordinate is negative, but since that's a freaking mouthful to say, navigators use compass points instead. Compass points are the traditional North, South, East and West, where North is _always_ the face-forward of the ship's bridge (so, always the fore) and South is _always_ the back-end of the ship (so always the aft). West and East refer to port and starboard, (left and right) respectively. Top and bottom are either _top_ and _bottom_ (but that made me giggle too much), or, more commonly _high_ and _low_.

 

  


 

Nominally, coordinates are given based on the XYZ and compass cardinal, but in combat conditions, those coordinates simplify a great deal. The destination XYZ coordinate is calculated based on the 0, 0, 0, and this is where I throw in a curveball -- I calculate the _trajectory angle_ required to the destination.

I also have to say "how far". So, distance factors into the coordinates, too.

Confused? Welcome to my world. Let me try to simplify.

X is a forward _distance_. This answers "how far". Y defines where to the left or right, while Z gives you how far high or low.

The spot where Y and Z intersect gives you the trajectory angle. This is where you need a protractor. If Z is the vertical line, Y is the horizontal line, and X is the line that stretches out away from you (to give you a three-dimensional figure), 0° falls on the Y, 90° falls on the Z.

So, say I want to go to coordinate 0, 0, 100. I tell the navigator to move the ship _90°_ _high_. There's no other coordinate required. It's a simple maneuver.

What about 0, 100, 0? Remember XYZ. I now want to go toward the _right_. I tell the navigator to move the ship _0° East_ (or _hard starboard_ )

Let's say I want to go to coordinate 0, 100, 100 (100 units above where we are, 100 units right). I also want to slap myself because I've just spent ten minutes staring at my little sketch, trying to remember how to work out my three-dimensional coordinates.

Where does 0, 100, 100 intersect on the … wait. We don't care about X because we're not moving forward or backward. We're moving _up_ and _to the right_. So where does that intersect on the graph? _Easy_. Just draw a dotted line from the point on the Z axis across. Draw a dotted line from the point on the Y axis _up_. Where do they meet? Right _there_. A protractor would give you an angle of forty-five degrees (follow the red lines on the image below).

So what I'm telling my navigator is that I want to move to a position forty five degrees relative to my current position, or 45° high, or 045 High. Since everything is spelled out to avoid confusion, it would sound like this: _zero-four-five high_.

Note that I didn't use _East_. _East_ and _West_ are rarely used -- port and starboard are preferred. And since we're using compass points, anything greater than 90° is considered _West_ , anyway. 

Basically, anywhere from 0° to 90° is high and to the right. Anywhere from 90° to 180° is high and to the left. Anywhere from 180° to 270° is low and to the left. Anywhere from 270° to 359° (360° is the same as 0°) is low and to the right.

Still with me?

Let's introduce _distance_ to the equation. YZ gives you an angle for the course -- you can go 090 High or 345 Low all you want, but you're not moving forward (or backward).

X, like I mentioned, is a measure of distance, _however_ that one particular ship happens to measure distance -- x1000, x10 000, x100 000, etc. That's a standard measure used by the crew and usually established by the sensor technician, who will tell you how far the closest object is. So if it's a hundred thousand kilometres away, the standard of measure is now x1000 (the largest measure of distance in the number).

If the closest object is 237,000 kilometres away, divide that number by 1000, and you have your X units of coordinates -- 237 (follow the blue line to the equivalent distance, and cross it over where it will meet an angle of 45°).

Mixing that up with the full set of coordinates --- 237,000 kilometres forward, at an intercept angle of 45° -- I'll come up with 0237N/045° (the purple arrow is the new ship's heading).

 

  


 

Why is there a leading zero? To round up to the next thousand. Why is there a N? Because I'm giving a _forward_ direction (North). I could equally leave it out since it's understood that we want to go forward. I could also use S (South) or _aft_ to define a reverse course (though most likely the reverse course would be preceded by a "bring us about" command so that the nose is still pointing North).

I hope this made sense. And I know it's a lot of worldbuilding (and too much math) to apply to something that only shows up once or twice in a battle scene, but, hey, some people build up dioramas. Me, I sketch out the scientific coordinates. _Everyone_ 's different. At the very least, I hope this will help a reader figure out where the ship is positioned during combat.

 

THE CONGLOMERATE

I've talked about the Empire's Royal Houses. I've gone over the Pirate equivalent. As far as worldbuilding goes, it's a pretty equitable sort of system, with its' own kind of give and take (focused mostly on the _take_ , if you're a Pirate). I've mentioned mercenaries, who are generally assholes ready to do whatever dirty work happens to be worth doing -- but keep in mind I said _generally_. That description doesn't necessarily apply to a whole.

Despite the relatively tame conflict between the Empire and the Pirates and the rather large dominion of mercenaries and aliens who cause trouble on the other side of things for the Empire, it's a pretty idyllic sort of universe. Not perfect, grant you. There's civil unrest on some planets. There are corrupt government officials. Crime is still a thing. Not everyone is rich and not everyone is poor, and while the Pirates seem to have managed a sort of civilization where everyone is equal and works for equal means, it doesn't mean that there aren't problems elsewhere. There's always going to be a sort of divide, at least in this universe, until something changes.

For all their problems and constant in-fighting, the Pirates have their shite together -- or at least, something always gets sorted out, because that's the Pirate way. The Empire, on the other hand, isn't as lucky. Maybe it's because it's a bigger territory with more people and a greater diversity. Or maybe it's because there's a huge disparity between a member of a Royal House and someone who farms grain on a backworld for little recompense.

 _Either way_ , it comes down to this. The Royal Houses don't oversee _everything_. They can't. There's just not that many of them. The Houses themselves may be large, but there's only one ruling lineage for every House and hierarchy is very strict. The other members of the House are tied, to some degree or another, by blood to the House and are seen by some Houses as little more but pesky family members who occupy the couch and refuse to leave, like a guest who's overstayed their welcome. The people who populate a planet where a House has been established are under the protection of the House and work for both the welfare of the House and the planet.

Nothing more.

That means that, outside of the Royal Court, the government is very, _very_ rarely made up of any member of the Houses (why work when they can mooch off their inheritance, however contrived?). It also means that micro-governments exist throughout the Empire, very much in the same way that a Commonwealth exists on Earth.

A town will have a government. That government responds to the state or provincial government. That state or provincial government will answer to the country or territorial government. That country or territorial government answers to the planetary government. That government in turn must answer to a Galactic Council, which is usually governed by a House and is made up of ambassadors from every planet in the galaxy that a House is responsible for.

It moves on up from the Galactic Council to the Intergalactic Council, which answers to a subcommittee of the Royal Court, which answers to a committee of the Court that eventually passes on the important affairs to the Court itself, and they bring anything worth mentioning to the Emperor's attention.

This is simplified -- I've skipped several stages -- but for the love of Pete, this is a whole lot of sticky Red Tape.

So where does the Conglomerate fit in?

The Conglomerate is the Conglomerate of Companies -- basically a Merchant's Guild. Everyone who does a trade or a business is a member of the Conglomerate to some degree. It's a lot like the Forbes' top 100 list of richest businessmen -- and it's structured like one, too. In order to get a seat on the Conglomerate Council, which deals with bylaws and trades and tariffs, even controlling the banking affairs to some degree, someone would need to have a lot of money, either as an individual or as a business entity.

I'm painting businessmen and merchants in a bad light here, and that's not intentional. But this is fiction, and _someone_ needs to be the bad guy here. And the bad guy is more meaningful when he or she has a reason to be a bad guy, and that reason is _super simple_.

In order to operate under the Empire and to have a voice at one of the upper levels of government where they stand a rat's chance in Hell of maybe influencing the vote a little bit, preferably in their favour, the Conglomerate of Companies has to pay a tremendous tariff to the Empire. This is standard. Most similar "guilds" pay an amount that is proportional to their revenue (to keep it fair), but the Conglomerate, who are by far the richest and most influential guild across the Empire, don't think it is. They see it as an unfair sort of taxation, a gouging, and, well. They don't like it.

Who would?

Most members of the Conglomerate are satisfied with pounding a fist on the table and _but-but-but_ -ing their way through a meeting, using lawyers and stalling tactics and maybe even blackmail and bribery to get their way. It's no skin off their nose to find out which of the Houses have ruling families that are actually as broke as dirt, or well on their way to get there; or which Master of the House has a terrible gambling problem or sex addiction and _exploiting_ it. And maybe for a while this exploitation has been purely for instant profit…

But there are those who played a long game, knowing that they would never reap the benefits in their lifetime. Their descendants/heirs would, though. And an even smaller handful are those who were _willing_ to go to extremes to make certain that they would get their way.

And, sadly, because of a loophole in the way the Imperial law was written, there _was_ a way. They took advantage of the fact that the House of Dragons was a very low-producing bloodline (for one reason or another, mostly legal, the use of artificial methods of conception and gestation were not used except in cases where there was no other recourse, such as same-sex couples) and weighed the odds into their favour. 

First, they sought out those among the members of the House of Shadows who might be amenable to their cause (read: bribeable). Second, they planned everything in detail. Third, they engineered the assassination of the Imperial bloodline of the House of Dragons. Fourth, they got rid of everyone (the House of Shadows) who definitely would investigate, discover the complicity, _and_ seek revenge -- not through assassination, because that was too difficult, but by discrediting them in the most public and irrefutable manner, forcing them into exile.

That, along with all the preparations made throughout the years, paved the way for the Conglomerate of Companies to take charge of the Empire. They created the Conglomerate Council, they put their own people in positions of power, they pushed the Royal Houses into compliance and mediocrity. The Imperial army, sworn to the old regime, was taken apart, disbanded, and folded into the Conglomerate army. 

And worst of all, they took the traitors from the House of Shadows and established their own army of fighting Elite -- the White Legion. They went so far as to _infect_ (their words, not mine) the volunteers who applied to the Legion with the genetic code that made the House of Shadows the _House of Shadows_ , and once they were relatively certain of the process, began growing their own army.

Incidentally, genetic manipulation and genetic engineering for the purposes of attaining perfection is considered illegal in many sections of the galaxy, up to and including Imperial and Pirate territories. The Conglomerate knew this, and never did anything to change the law -- why bother when they won't get caught, since the only people who would know were exiled and had bounties on their heads in exchange for their deaths?

It didn't take long before the Conglomerate started running the Empire the way they did a business. In some ways, it was a good thing. I'd love to enumerate them, but those good things didn't apply to the Empire as a whole; the Conglomerate obviously profited, of course. In a lot of other ways, the changes were not good. People suffered. And the only way that the Conglomerate could be certain to apply those changes and circumvent a revolt was if they kept a figurehead government in place -- the Royal Court. No one likes too much change too quickly, least of all a population accustomed to stability of a long reign, and the Conglomerate knew that.

Like I said, they played a long game. They were working slowly but surely at completely disbanding Imperial forces and strength, undermining Imperial command and rule, and eventually they would have completely abolished Imperial monarchy.

In the meantime, they imposed edicts, regulations, laws. They implemented martial law. They actively recruited new personnel for their business cases and for their army. In some areas it was mandatory to serve among the Conglomerate army for a minimum of three terms of four years each, at the end of which they're not eligible for any other employment, so when faced with a choice of paying a hefty educational fee (which had once been free) to return to school for retraining, and staying in the military, well, the Conglomerate it was.

Some people -- not many, and they were usually the children of those who had once served under the Imperial regime -- would apply to the Imperial army instead. It took a great deal of trickery to get there, because checking the wrong box on the form meant someone might end up in the Conglomerate instead.

In essence, the Empire is slowly being converted to the Conglomerate -- a mass-produced, factory-made , hole-punch-and-staple-here type of government where everyone is a corporate drone, is punished for being an independent thinking, and can never, ever aspire to be beyond their station. Everything that was old was reconverted to some other, obsolete purpose.

Even the Sterling.

Yup. Even that.

The Conglomerate are a bunch of merchants. They have an interest in all financial affairs. It isn't a long stretch of imagination that they would also undermine one of the most stable systems in Imperial society -- the banks. The silver Sterling, which is the largest denomination of Imperial coin, suddenly becomes _worthless_ in the Empire. It takes a while to get there -- and it starts with how the Conglomerate pays their staff. They use Corporate Credits (CorpCreds) that can only be redeemed in the Empire at select kiosks or stores. The banks (now controlled by the Conglomerate) can exchange CorpCreds for cash at a severe depreciation value -- it will _cost_ someone a certain percentage of their paycheck to buy Imperial coin of any denomination to use at, oh, the grocery store or the pub. Likewise, if someone happens to have any Imperial coin but it's not taken at the CorpStores, exchanging the coin at the bank comes at a serious cost -- someone needs to use ten times the equivalent numeric amount of coin to get a credit in return.

It's a scam that not many people caught onto, not in the beginning. And those who raised the alert? They were silenced, their blog and vlog posts deleted, or, if they happened to be the sort who climbed on a soapbox and harped until the cows came home, were quietly escorted to a holding cell where their loyalty to the Empire was questioned (after what happened to the House of Shadows, being accused of treason, even as a joke, really wasn't funny).

Granted, the state of the economy took a long time to change -- it's a big Empire. But the further away a planet was from the Core Worlds, the harder it was to part someone from their Sterling. The Imperial Conglomerate did the next best thing -- they decided to make a particular point of showing how worthless the Sterling was by setting ridiculously low dead-or-alive bounties on the heads of criminals.

It didn't work. For one thing, criminals are a contrary lot. For another, bounty hunters who were not required to operate within the restrictions of Imperial (or Conglomerate) law were no longer motivated to capture them -- they didn't give a flying fuck how many CorpCreds they'd be paid in. They wanted Sterling, and twenty Sterling to capture the most renowned Pirate Captain? 

Right. Nope.

If anything, this tactic worked in the Pirates' advantage. If the Conglomerate was going to devalue the Sterling to the point where people would do anything to get rid of it, well, the Pirates were _happy_ to take it in. That makes them the richest people in the known galaxies, and they keep getting richer because they have a pesky propensity for going plundering and pillaging.

But in the end, it doesn't matter, because the Conglomerate doesn't care about the Pirates. They care about their wares. To that end, the indulgence that the Pirates were accustomed to with the Empire was suddenly gone; they now had to contend with increased CorpsCops patrolling the borders and getting in the bloody way when they wanted to walk the plank and help themselves to a transport's cargo hold.

This, more than anything, is the source of the Pirates' hatred of the Conglomerate. They lost more good ships and good men to the Conglomerate's rule than they ever had in the _hundreds of years_ under Imperial rule.

In fact, they were so enraged by the change in the status quo that they were more than happy to welcome early immigrants with wide, friendly arms. This was an open door policy that continued for years until the Clans weighed out how many people they could safely and comfortably sustain, but by this point, the Conglomerate really cracked down on people leaving for parts unknown, because, apparently, there was _paperwork_ to fill out first.

And departure taxes.

Freaking _departure taxes_.

 

The Conglomerate conversion -- something that I affectionately call in my head the _You will be assimilated_ process -- was going swimmingly when, one day, a lower-level bureaucrat working in the intelligence section of the Imperial Conglomerate happened to remark that the Clan crest of a brand-new Pirate Clan had a striking similarity to the House Sigil of the House of Dragons. He thought that was a fucking insult to what had been a glorious time and to a beloved Emperor. 

He petulantly flagged that random piece of information and sent it up the pipes. But since he was a low-level bureaucrat, no one paid a whole lot of attention to it, not at first. Every time that he received a report of the golden dragon crest on a Pirate ship attacking, he would see red, flag the report, and send it up.

Eventually there were enough of these annoying flags that someone more important and with more pull took a gander. That person may or may not know what they were looking at -- maybe they were an Imperial sympathizer, too, or maybe they were a Conglomerate drone. Either way, after jumping through a whole lot of hoops, the mere presence of the golden dragon crest came to the attention of someone powerful enough to _lay the smack down_.

Considering how they came to power, the Conglomerate couldn't risk even the slightest chance that they could be deposed from rule. They could probably have changed the law that allowed them to take over, but that would be calling attention to it, and they absolutely didn't need that to come to light (it would look suspicious). Instead, they sent in White Legion spies to get up close and personal…

Bricks were shat when they realized that, yes, Clan Pendragon was House of Dragons, and they had to do something about it. And, boy, they _did_ do something --

Well.

Read the fic. You'll see.

 

A FINAL WORD ABOUT WORLDBUILDING

I admit it. None of this was written down before I finished writing **_SL &PK_**. Except for a couple of rough sketches on paper to help me figure out the space battles, looking up some information about space itself, trying to come up with some realistic future Pirate lingo and reading too much Pirate-related stuff… This whole massive worldbuilding thing? I had the bare bones of it safely ensconced in my head, and I kept adding more and more to it as I wrote (the glossary is an example of that). Having those bare bones helped me figure out where I wanted to go and how I wanted to structure it, and those bare bones were:

  * The two main governments in this AU;
  * The enemy; 
  * How society works; 
  * Arthur's and Merlin's histories. 



That's it.

Most important of all, because I write character-driven plots (as opposed to plot-driven plots, which sometimes go off-roading), I had to come up with solid backgrounds and characterizations for Arthur and Merlin that were not only in keeping with their personalities on the show, but that also worked in this universe.

The only reason that I wrote all this was to show you the thought process. You don't need to go to this extent (unless you want to -- sometimes worldbuilding is as much fun as writing the story itself) when you create an alternate universe. But what you do have to do, at the very least, is to make it realistic and plausible in _some_ way. It doesn't have to be explained in super-high definition in the fic, either. It just needs to feel real to you -- and if you can make it real to yourself, you can make it real for everyone.

Happy worldbuilding, and thank you for reading **_SL &PK_**.


End file.
